Twilight
by Shadows
Summary: Xander as a vampire.
1. Prologue

Twilight - Prologue By Shadows 

  
  


"New blood joins this earth  


And quickly he's subdued  


Through constant pain, disgrace  


The young boy learns their rule" 

-The Unforgiven, Metallica 

  
  


"So, where's Buffy? Isn't this slaying thing her deal?" 

Cordelia Chase walked through the cemetery alongside Willow Rosenberg and Xander Harris, clutching a small cross at her side. Her long, well-manicured nails tapped against the wood, creating an annoying tip-tap-tip as they went deeper into cemetery. She was rather scantily clad for such a cold night, but seemed to not notice the brisk breeze that blew through the neighboring willow trees. What she did notice, though, was that she was doing somebody else's job, and that pissed her off. Next to her, Xander rolled his eyes. "Because she's sick. She's at home, in bed, not with us." He tossed a look at Willow, who smiled back. "Why don't you do that, Cordelia?" 

"Get sick?" Cordelia said, her face and voice registering total shock. "Ew! Do you know how'd gross I'd look?" Her mouth snapped shut as she contemplated what it would be like to catch the flu. 

Xander and Willow looked at each other again and shared a silent laugh. "Have you guys noticed, though," Willow said, attempting some conversation, "that there aren't that many vampires out? I mean, that's weird, right? Because we're on the Hellmouth and everything." 

"What, do you think something's up?" Xander reached inside his jacket to touch his hidden stash of stakes for comfort. He, Willow, and Cordelia might not be Slayers, but everybody knew the basic strategy-find, aim, plunge, party. Yeah, he'd killed some vampires in his time. 

"I don't know," Willow said, shrugging off the sudden eerie feeling she'd had. "I mean, there should be more of them." 

"They were reluctant at first, I must admit," said a voice from behind, "but I finally convinced them to stay home. I'm so selfish. I wanted the fun all for myself!" 

The three Slayerette's whirled around in surprise at the sound of the voice. Stake and crosses held high, they opened their eyes wide enough to see who it was. 

Angel. 

Willow's blood ran hot through her veins. Here, in front of her, stood the demon that had killed Jenny Calendar, her role model and good friend, and in result, had dragged Giles through emotional hell. 

Xander's eyes narrowed in hate. He had never liked Angel when he had a soul, but that had been for a trivial reason-his judgement had been clouded by his puppy love towards Buffy. But he had known then and now that eventually a relationship between and Slayer and a vampire couldn't last, though he hadn't known back then that it would end up like this. 

Cordelia's eyes widened in terror. This was dangerous! She could get killed! I mean, he'd already taken out Ms. Calendar: who knew who'd end up dead next? But besides the gnawing fear in the pit of her stomach, Cordelia had to notice that Angel looked really hot in those leather pants. 

"So, are you three going to do anything, or should I just eat?" Angel snickered. Then, without warning, he pounced on top of the nearest Slayerette-Willow. 

Willow was knocked to the ground as the large weight of the vampire fell on top of her. Angel grabbed her arms and held them behind her head, leaving her helpless and pinned to the ground. Willow looked up into his blazing yellow eyes and was struck with enormous fear. Xander, Cordelia, help me . . . 

"Willow!" Although those hypnotizing yellow eyes were filling her mind, she could still hear Xander's shrill cry. And then the world spun as Angel held her close and they rolled along the ground. Out of the corner of her eye, she could spot the blur of a fast-moving stake piercing the ground. 

Xander tried to pull out the stake and, realizing that it had gone too deep, reached into his jacket for his back-ups. He looked up to see Cordelia, horrified, looking on at the Jenga pile that was Angel and Willow. "Well, help her, dammit!" he screamed at her, knocking her out of her reverie. Cordelia ran as fast as she could towards the two. 

Angel had a good grip on Willow's neck, holding it tightly between his thick hands. "I'll snap you like a twig," he hissed, smiling hideously and exposing all his pointy little teeth, his large, blood-sucking fangs the most prominent. "Just like that teacher of yours." 

At the moment, Willow didn't care if he snapped her neck, because he was presently choking her and she was running out of air. She beat uselessly at the sleeves of his duster, a primal urge inside her screaming for her to live. The world was beginning to spin, this time only in her eyes. "Xander . . ." she managed to croak out. 

Angel opened his mouth to ask for her final words when something hit him on the back of the head-hard, drawing blood. He winced and let go of Willow, rolling away. Willow looked up and saw a very frightened Cordelia holding the blunt end of her cross, staring at it in horror, and then staring at Angel, who was rubbing his head and swearing loudly. 

Willow scrambled to her feet and tugged on Cordelia's sleeve. "C'mon Cordelia, let's get out of here." She turned around to run, but ran smack into someone. She looked up, and saw it was Xander, with a determined look on his face. 

"Xander! We have to get out of here now before he gets up again!" Willow looked back at Angel, who was slowly rising to his feet. "Xander! What are you waiting for!" 

"Yeah!" Cordelia demanded. "I agree with Willow. We can get killed here!" 

Xander set his jaw firmly. He pushed Willow gently out of his way. "Go on, run and get Giles or Buffy or something. I'm gonna stay here-I gotta get something off my mind." 

"Xander, don't be crazy!" But Xander had already marched off to a waiting Angel, who had donned a big, happy smile. Cordelia just grabbed Willow's sleeve and they ran behind a tall pair of bushes, hidden from view. 

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"So what have you got against li'l ol' me, anyway?" Angel asked as Xander walked towards him, stakes in hand and such an expression on his face that made Angel want to break out laughing. "Upset about Buffy? Jealous that I got there first? Man, you just gotta deal with your issues-" 

Angel was cut off as Xander slugged him-hard-in the face. Angel growled in pain and took a few steps backward, looking at Xander with a face gaining a slight respect. 

"Wow, guess all you need to make a runt a hero is a little motivation," Angel laughed, his eyes sparkling. And then, in a blur, Xander was pinned to a headstone, Angel standing triumphantly above him. 

"But you need a lot more than that to beat me, my friend." 

Angel snarled and immediately morphed into his game face. A thousand ways that Angel could kill him ran through Xander's mind in an instant. Along with that came treasured memories of friends, families, and times that he would like to remember forever. 

And then Angel sunk his fangs into his neck. 

At first it hurt tremendously, for he could feel the two sharp teeth digging under his skin, piercing the veins. Then, he felt as though everything inside his body was suddenly pulled into his neck, as Angel's hold around him tightened and the vampire quickly sucked his blood. 

After only a few seconds, the cemetery surroundings blurred and ran into each other like ink in water. Everything acquired a glow-y sort of look to it, and his body began to tingle. He was left with the lightheadedness one gets when loosing large amounts of blood. But he welcomed it; Xander welcomed it all, because there was no more pain, just . . . 

Then Xander felt the two fangs withdraw from his neck so keenly as though the puncture wounds were mountains lined with pain. A hand gently cradled his head, as though he were a baby, against a hard structure . . . Angel's chest. A voice, soft yet cruel, whispered in his ear, "Xander, you're dead. I've killed you: you're dead. Unless . . ." Angel chuckled, and the sound was like a train roaring in his ears. "Do you want to join us, Xander? The national polls taken just last year show us to be the fastest-growing community in the United States . . ." 

Xander heard no more. At that moment, he was incapable of making such a large decision. The only thing that was running through is mind was the animal instinct to survive, to not give in to death, to continue living . . . and at that moment the only way to do that was to drink from the wrist Angel was offering him: the wrist that dripped with the sweet blood that would give him life once more. 

A single, delicious drop of vampire blood fell on Xander's eager tongue, and he sucked it down hungrily. At once, a fire spread through his mouth, spreading through his body, from his head down to the very tips of his toes. Strength surged through him once more, just from a single drop of blood. 

"That was just a taste," Angel whispered, and then shoved his wrist into Xander's mouth. Xander latched onto it hungrily, starting to suck furiously like a baby. 

Then the wrist was gone, along with his lifeline, and Xander was thrown to the ground. A face hovered before him, and an angry, incessant voice was yelling at him. 

"How dare you! Stupid! What were you thinking!" 

Nothing, really, because his brain felt like it had met a brick wall-twice. Xander's head lolled to the side, and he stared at the face in front of him with a blank expression. He tried to make his lips move, but his nerves were dead. Instead, he fell into unconsciousness, away from the pain. 


	2. Chapter1

"You think he's gonna wake up, Willow?" Buffy Summers sat-or rather, tried to-on the small, hard hospital bench underneath the window in the hospital room, nervously wringing her thin little hands together. She wore a hospital gown herself, having been taken in as a patient because of the severity of the flu she'd caught. Her face was as pale and livid as the paisley gown; but then again, hospital lighting did nothing for her complexion. 

Willow sat on the other side of the room, in one of the plush, cushiony chairs that Buffy had refused. "I don't know," Willow said quietly, looking over to her right, where a lightly snoring Ms. Harris slept, crunched up into an uncomfortable position in the next chair. "He's had a really bad experience. I mean . . ." She trailed off, not wanting to continue. 

Willow had spent most of the time behind the tall bush calming Cordelia, who for some reason would just not shut up. When she finally quieted down, Willow sneaked around the bush to check on Xander, and that's when she saw him reaching out to drink Angel's blood. 

Willow shuddered all of the sudden. "You ok, Will?" Buffy asked, worried. Willow just nodded yes and then stared at the still form lying on the bed before her. 

IV's were poked in every place possible in Xander's skin, while blood, oxygen, and other nutrients flowed through the transparent tubes, keeping Xander alive. He himself was still very pale, and had been in a coma for two days, although the wound on his neck had mysteriously disappeared. 

At first, Willow had feared he had become a vampire, but the sunshine from the open window that streamed across Xander's face disproved that notion. Instead, she was worried that Xander had lost too much blood to ever wake up from this coma of his. 

Next to her, Ms. Harris tossed in her sleep and murmured something that sounded vaguely like she was ordering Chinese food. All Saturday and Sunday she had stayed faithfully by Willow and Buffy's side, except for an hour on Sunday when she went to pray for Xander at church, although she was not a church-going woman. 

As for Buffy-well, she blamed herself for Xander's predicament. In fact, she was blaming herself for everything that Angel was doing. She didn't dare speak of Jenny Calendar to anyone and, in her short time she was spending at the hospital, she was faithfully guarding Xander's room at night, in case something cared to pay their respects after visiting hours. Willow had told Buffy repeatedly to go back to her room, get some rest so that she could get better quick, but the Slayer said that she would get better as soon as Xander came out of his coma. 

"I said Shoo-Mai sauce!" Ms. Harris yelled loudly as she suddenly woke up from her sleep. She looked around, embarrassed, and then busied herself with fluffing the seat cushion she had been sitting on for the past eight hours. 

"So, Buffy, Willow . . ." she got up and dusted off her suit. Lynda Harris was a prominent lawyer in Sunnydale, and the woman lived and slept in suits. "I'm going down to the cafeteria to grab a cup of coffee . . . anybody want something to drink? Something to eat? Anything I can get for you girls?" 

"A-actually, you know, I think I'll go with you," Willow said, trading looks between Lynda and Buffy. "I-I'm kind of hungry from being here so long. And I better call Oz, 'cause I said I would, and stuff." She gave a nervous smile and almost her reason to leave-Buffy needed to reconcile with Xander, even if Xander couldn't respond. She had so much pressure on her now: she didn't need this too. 

"Ok, Willow, grab me a Coke." Buffy still stared at Xander, a blank expression on her face: a façade for what was going on underneath. She looked up to meet the sad, tired eyes of Lynda Harris. "I-if anything changes with Xander, I'll get somebody to call you." 

Lynda nodded, and before leaving the room, stepped by Willow and bent to give Xander a kiss. She matted his hair down in a loving way, and it was this touching scene that teared-up Willow's eyes. Jordan Harris, Xander's father, had left Lynda and his son when he was only five years old, and Lynda had never been close to her son since. They were like two strangers sharing one big, empty house. And now she was feeling guilty that the one thing that would being her closer to her son would be his near-death experience. 

"OK, I'm ready." Lynda choked back some tears and left the hospital room with Willow's arm around her shoulders. Buffy was left alone with Xander. 

After cracking all the knuckles she had, Buffy managed to muster up enough strength to move to Willow's empty chair. She scooted closer to the bed and reached for one of Xander's limp hands. She played her fingers along his palm like she was reading his fortune. Anything, to avoid talking to him. 

"I hope you can hear me," she started in a low voice. Then she gave herself a sardonic smile. "Doesn't really matter, anyway, 'cause I don't know what to say." She looked at Xander. In his sleep he looked so sweet, like a little child asleep on Christmas Eve, just waiting to wake up early and smell the breakfast on the stove his mother didn't have, to rip apart the wrapping paper that covered the presents under the Christmas tree. 

Tears sprang to Buffy's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Xander." A tear escaped from her eye, and she wiped it away with the back of her right hand. "I've just been screwing up so much lately. It's all my-" 

"Ms. Summers?" Buffy turned around sharply, to see a plump, black nurse with a big smile on her face and a big needle in her hand standing in the doorway. She moved more into the room, and Buffy could read the nurses nametag-Candy. 

"I'm sorry to, uh, interrupt your little moment here, but Dr. Wilkinson would like to see you now in your room." Nurse Candy stressed that sentence very much, so she wouldn't have to add that Buffy was suppose to be in her room anyway. "Also, I'm going to need a moment alone with Mr. Harris." The nurse held up a large needle. "This might get ugly." 

That worked. "Uh, ok," Buffy said, getting out of the chair and walking towards the door. She gave one last look at Xander, so deathly pale and lying so still on the bed, and turned towards the nurse. "If he wakes up, have somebody tell me, ok? I would like to know." 

"Ok," Nurse Candy said in the voice adults usually use to humor teens and children. "On you go now," she shooed. Buffy quickly shut the door behind her. 

Candy turned to look at Xander. She walked over to the foot of the bed and glanced at her clipboard. She then compared that information to the chart lying on the bed. Shrugging and making a "hmmf" sound, she walked over to Xander's right, and placed her clipboard on the adjacent counter top. 

"You know what I like about patients in coma's?" Candy said as she dabbed Xander's right arm with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. Xander didn't answer, of course, so Candy kept chatting to herself. "You don't have to make small talk with them." 

Done with the swabbing, Candy reached over for the needle. She looked to see if the correct amount of liquid was inside the vile, and satisfied, held it so it barely touched Xander's skin. "It's also great that I don't have to tell them that it's only gonna hurt a lot." She smiled, and then punctured flesh. 

The heart monitor raised a little in beats per second, but that was very normal. What was not normal was that suddenly a little sound of pain escaped from Xander's lips, and then his eyes flashed wide open. 

"Oh!" Candy, startled lost her hold on the needle and backed away, running smack into the counter. She watched as Xander sat up and looked groggily around the room. 

"What . . ." Xander looked around until his gaze rested upon his arm, where the needle, unattended, still stuck out. "Ow!" yelled Xander, his voice rising in panic. "Please, needle, out, now!" 

Candy ran back towards her patient and gently retracted the needle from his arm. The pained expression on Xander's face lessened, but he still looked at the nurse with confusion. "Where am I?" Xander asked. "What am I-how'd I get here?" 

Lynda and Willow chose that exact moment to enter the hospital room again. At first, Lynda just paused, not believing what she saw, but then she dropped the tray of food that she was carrying and ran towards her son. 

"Xander!" she cried, wrapping her arms around him. Xander just scrunched his eyebrows in the frustration of not understanding what was going on and patted his mother lightly on the back. 

"It's ok," he murmured soothingly, patting his mother repeatedly. This woman would not let go of him, and Xander was not used to such affection from his mother. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Willow, who smiled nervously and played with the Coke in her hands. 

"Sweetheart, I'm so glad your back to the waking world!" Lynda finally let go of her son, and Xander awkwardly sat back against his bed. 

"Um, can anybody explain why I'm the hospital with wires hooking me up to a machine?" Xander asked, a bit cross. He was never in the best mood after waking up from a two-day long sleep. 

"You don't remember?" Lynda asked, walking over to Nurse Candy. The nurse told her something quickly and then left the room to get the doctor. Lynda turned back to her son and said, "Well, Willow filled me in on the story. Willow?" 

"Um . . ." Willow cleared her throat and then gave a little cough or two. "Um, Xander, remember, we were coming out of the Bronze when you, uh, you ran into that jutting piece of the wall? By accident? Cordelia and I had to drive you to the hospital because you were bleeding really badly . . . you know, remember?" 

Xander looked at Willow with raised eyebrows once more. "I'm drawing a blank here-" Suddenly his eyes darkened, and his whole face hardened. "Oh, yes, I remember now," he said through clenched teeth, his brown eyes like sharp daggers. "The wall." He practically growled the last word. 

For a moment, there was awkward silence, and then Lynda turned towards Willow. "I don't mean to be rude, honey, but do you think that Xander and I could have a moment alone? I mean, before the doctor comes?" Lynda's tone was pleading. 

"Oh, yeah, sure," Willow agreed rapidly. "I'll just go see if Buffy's in her room." She waved good-bye to Xander; since visiting hours were almost over; she probably wouldn't get to see him until tomorrow, after school. "Get better soon, ok, for me?" 

Xander gave her a little nod but kept his dark face on. Willow left the room as fast as she could, not wanting to deal at all with Xander at the moment. 

Once in the hallway, she stood outside the door, trying to remember where Buffy's room was, because for the life of her, it had just left her mind. All she could think of, all that she could see in her mind's eye, was Xander grabbing Angel's wrist and sucking it so hungrily, getting that one good bite in before Willow managed to pry them apart . . . 

Willow shivered and then took the left corridor. She was certain that this way was the way Buffy had come from. But then again, she could have come from the right . . . shouldn't have Xander become a vampire? 

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Buffy sat on the edge of her hospital bed, tapping the toes of her feet against each other in a moment of pure boredom. She wanted to be back in Xander's room, watching over him-who knew if Angel would decide to pay him a visit? But you don't have to be there now, a voice said in her mind. It's daylight. 

Shut up, Buffy told the voice crossly. I owe a lot to him now. And to Giles, and to Jenny. But Jenny's dead, so I can't exactly protect her now, huh? 

You're way to bitter for your own good, the voice in her mind responded. Then it shut up completely, leaving Buffy all alone, and with the knowledge that she had just carried on a conversation with a voice in her head. 

"You're going insane, Buffy," she told herself aloud, shaking her had sadly. "Yep, you're finally gonna get those pretty padded walls you always see in the movies but Mommy never let you have." 

"Don't talk that way!" Buffy turned around to see Willow just entering the room. "You're not going insane! You're just going through a lot right now." 

"You know, as much as I appreciate being loved, I wish people would stop sneaking up on me. Dr. Wilkinson just did it a few seconds ago. Oh!" She brightened up and climbed more on to the bed, sitting Indian-style and leaning forward to talk to her best friend. "She says that I'm getting better faster, so then I can go out Slaying again, and kick Angel's ass." She said this quite defiantly, like she meant it from her heart. But Willow shaked her head sadly in disbelief. 

"You're not ready to kill him yet," Willow said sadly. "I know it, and you know it. The way you look at him, even when he's acting evil, and the way you talk about him . . . you still love him Buffy." 

Buffy's lips were pressed together tightly as Willow stated the obvious, but they quivered slightly when the Slayer tried to speak. "You're right," Buffy said. "You always are." 

"Not always," Willow said, blushing and sitting down in one of the ragged, plush chairs, much like the ones in Xander's hospital room. She handed Buffy the Coke. "Some of the times, yeah. Mostly." 

"Well, you've got self-esteem, I'll credit you with that," Buffy said wryly, but with a smile on her face to indicate that she was only poking fun at her best friend. But Willow seemed down all the sudden. 

"What, you get me in high spirits and then all the sudden you're the one with issues?" Buffy asked. She raised her left eyebrow. "C'mon, Will, spill the beans. What's up?" 

"It's about Xander . . . what happened to him." Willow was practically speaking under her breath. "A lot more happened then Angel just sucking his blood. Xander, he, h-he-" Willow couldn't go on. 

"What is it, Will?" Buffy asked gently, afraid herself to know the answer to her question. 

"It's what Xander did!" Willow wailed, losing control. "Angel drained his blood, I guess, I mean, I know, but what I saw was Xander sucking the blood back, like, you know, a whole big sucking thing! Isn't that how they make vampires?! And if they do, then why didn't it work on Xander, and I'm just gonna stop my incessant babbling because I'm going to break down and cry any minute!" And that's just what she did. 

"Oh Will," Buffy said, standing up and hurrying over to her sensitive friend. She enveloped her into a big bear hug, and Willow hugged tightly back, crying into Buffy's shoulders. 

"This is weird, though," Willow managed to say, although the thin material of the hospital gown muffled her voice. "Maybe . . . maybe we should ask Giles to help us with this." 


	3. Chapter 2

Giles was sitting behind the check-out counter in the school library, stamping bar codes in some new Social Studies textbooks when he heard the swing doors, well, swing open. He looked up, not at all surprise to see who had entered. 

"Hello Willow, Buffy," Giles said, stamping one last book and then standing up. He walked over to the front of the counter. "Um, how is Xander?" 

"That's what we came to talk about." Buffy and Willow sat down at the table, Buffy with a still, solemn face, and Willow wringing her hands nervously and eyebrows that practically shot up to the heavens. Giles was instantly on alert and stood on the other side of the table, trying to read their expressions. 

"Is Xander . . . n-not well?" Giles had never liked the Harris boy too much, but he never wished for anything too serious to happen to him. And the last thing Giles wanted was another victim racked up on Angel's scale. 

"He is. He's out of the coma." The two girls watched Giles sigh in relief. "But . . ." Buffy paused here, not really wanting to go on. She herself didn't quite believe that Willow had truly seen what she said she had seen. Xander was not the type to do that sort of thing. If anything, he hated vampires more than the Slayer, especially since her ex-boyfriend was Evil Vampire #1. Xander would never intentionally do anything like that . . . 

"We, I, didn't tell you everything," Willow said, her voice breaking. "And it might be important that, that you know so in case anything can go really bad, you can, like, tell us it's going to happen." 

Giles was drawing a blank on what was happening to the girls. Still slightly uneasy about looking at Buffy, he turned instead to Willow. "If I can help, Willow, I will. But you have to tell me first." 

Buffy noticed that Giles was shying away from her, and she gave a quick blush. She knew that it would not be as easy as Giles forgiving her just like that, but it still felt so odd. Giles was the father figure that her real father was missing out on being, and Buffy was feeling the way she had when her parents had done the "we need some time off for a little while" thing. 

"Xander, he . . . he drank. I mean, Angel's blood." Willow looked down at her lap. "Angel drained him and then gave Xander a few drops of blood before I, uh, saved him I guess." 

Giles sat still and quiet for a moment, contemplating this information. Then, slowly, he said, "Is Xander a vampire?" 

"No!" both Willow and Buffy shouted, leaning forward. Giles took a step or two back, and then the girls sat back in their seats, blushing red. 

"Well, than, there's nothing to worry about," Giles said matter-of-factly. "It seems as though Xander has not had enough of Angelus' vampire blood to be turned into a demon himself. And," he moved towards the bookcases, "with that said, Buffy, there is something interesting that I'd like you to see in the Middle Age's." "Yeah, ok," Buffy said up and gave Willow a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Will, Xander isn't going to go all wacky on us." She then went to bury herself in the stacks with Giles, when she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. 

Giles was holding her back. "Now wait a minute," he said softy. "I think that you'd better rethink what you just said." He sighed. "Buffy, you remember how you were when you came back to Sunnydale a year ago after you had been almost killed. You were-well, I don't have to get into details, but you weren't in the best of moods, exactly. And that may possibly-probably-be how Xander is going to react. He's going to be changed, and you are going to have to take it in stride." He looked back down the stairs. "That goes for you too, Willow." Willow nodded. "Well, that said, let's go look at what I have to show you." Giles and Buffy disappeared into the bookshelves. 

Willow got a sudden shiver up her spine, though she didn't know why. Lately, she had begun to somewhat sense things-well, not really sense, but just a quiet little something in the back of her mind that spoke up at certain times. And now was one of them. 

"Hey!" 

Willow whirled around, not knowing what to expect, but surely not what she saw. Xander stood there, books under his arm, still looking very pale and weak. He had a little smile on his face, and he leaned on the counter for support. His eyes seemed too large and round for his face, which had gone surprisingly gaunt, and his lips much too red. He was still sick, but he was here. 

"Xander!" Willow squealed, and ran into his arms. For a second Xander almost lost his balance, but steadied himself and hugged his best friend back. "You know, Will, I'm still a little bit sick, so give me a warning when you're going to tackle me," he joked as Willow pulled away from him. She looked sheepish. 

"Sorry," Willow said. Then she yelled back at the stacks. "Buffy, Giles, it's Xander!" 

Xander looked off into the stacks, and then back at Willow. "Where's Cordelia?" he asked. His voice was hoarse, and rasped in a sexy sort of way. Huskily. 

"She's sick with the flu," Willow reported. "She finally caught it. Guess that mean's she normal like the rest of us." 

"Doubt that," Xander chuckled. "Um, what's up with them?" he asked, gesturing with his hand to the bookshelves in which Buffy and Giles had yet to appear from. Willow shrugged. 

Just then Giles appeared, a very large and very old book in his hands. He gave Xander a smile, although he seemed to be occupied with something else. "Xander," Giles said, as if to affirm his presence. "I hope you're feeling better." 

"I'm not," Xander answered truthfully, wincing at a sudden pain in his chest. "Snyder called my mother at the hospital and demanded that I come back to school. For some reason, my mother agreed." 

"I smell a lawsuit," Willow said cheerfully, hands clasped in front of her. She smiled at Xander, who smiled back at her. 

"Oh," Giles said, and then he awkwardly stood there until scurrying back into his safe shadows. Xander looked at Willow quizzically. 

"What happened to him while I was gone?" 

"Nothing much happened to anybody, really," Willow said, shrugging the question off. "Oh, but Buffy did get the flu. She was on the floor above you, right over your room. But she was never in there, I mean, in her room. She was outside yours, like, guarding in case anything else came to visit." 

Xander nodded. He didn't really care what had happened or what was going to happen to Buffy. He did care, though, that he was going to be late for first period. "Almost time to go," he said, looking at his watch. 

Willow gave him a humorous look. "Since when do you care about being on time for class?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. 

"Since I can't wait to fall asleep. We have Mr. Brodie for first hour." Willow rolled her eyes. "I know," Xander said. "See, even you hate his class." 

"I don't hate his class," Willow said, going back to the table and gathering her things, shoving them into her backpack. "I just don't like the way he teaches it. He's so dull. Really, you know, if I wasn't teaching Computer Science, I would take over that job so that kids could have fun and learn at the same time." 

"Willow," Xander warned as they left the room, "you just used 'fun' and 'learn' in the same sentence. I hate to break it to you, but they don't go together at all." 

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"And so, by the time I got to Math just now, I was like 'Thank you for the sympathy, but enough's enough.' Teachers that I thought would just love to see me wiped off the face of the Earth were telling me how sorry they were and, get this, Mrs. Jacobson said she 'felt for me.' I almost keeled over laughing there." 

Willow let out a light laugh as Xander continued the narrative of his morning back at school. It seemed as if all the teacher's had been informed that Xander had been a victim caught innocently in a fight between two warring gangs. He could not get over the look on one particular teacher's face. 

"So Gabowski turns towards me, goes white as a sheet, starts praying to God and saying 'Xander, is that really you?' 'Yes, Mr. Gabowski, live, in the flesh, and ready to earn my D-minuses!'" 

Willow giggled as she sat down, plopping her brown lunch bag before her. Xander rubbed her arm gently and said, "I'll be right back." He went off to buy his lunch, leaving his books and stuff in the seat next to her. 

Willow sat there for a while just staring at her bag, then sighing happily, she began to open it. She peeked in and instantly frowned. Yet again another peanut butter sandwich. That was all her mother, Tara Rosenberg, ever ate, so she figured Willow would have to follow in her footsteps. 

"Willow?" 

Oz slid into the seat next his girlfriend, dropping his backpack next to Xander's books. He scooted his chair a comfortably close distance to her and asked what was going on. 

"Oh! Xander came to school today," Willow said brightly. "He's getting lunch right now." She lowered her voice and head nearer to Oz. "He doesn't look that well, ok? So don't really say anything, ok? Even though I know you would never." 

"'K," Oz agreed, nodding. He picked up his backpack and moved so that he was in front of Willow instead by her side. She leaned over her peanut butter sandwich and began a heated conversation about a hacking web site she had found just yesterday on the Internet. 

"And I was just like, 'Wow! The CIA code!' and then I realized that I was like, doing heavy-duty trouble-stuff so I click the little button to the right, and then-" 

She was interrupted by a sharp, loud cry of pain that came from the lunch line. Oz and Willow both turned around to see; it was easy because everybody was backing away to make space. So Willow and Oz got quite a clear view of Xander bending over his lunch tray in pain, clutching his chest like an old man in cardiac arrest. 

"Ohmigod!" Willow said, jumping out of her chair to run towards Xander as her best friend fell to the floor. Oz followed right after her, trying to keep up with the frightened redhead. 

Willow dropped to the floor next to Xander, and the first thing she did was check his pulse. It was weak-very weak-but it was there. "Get help!" she told Oz breathlessly, and he nodded, running off to tell the nearest authority figure. 

Meanwhile, Willow held on to Xander's wrist, and the same chill as those countless times before creeped up her spine. The other seniors in the lunchroom were creeping closer now. "Don't go Xander, ok?" she pleaded to him, as if he could hear. "Don't go." 


	4. Chapter 3

"Dammit, am I here again?" 

Xander had just opened his eyes to see he was in a white room, lying on a white hospital bed and with Willow sitting next to him. The first that came to his mind was that again, he was visiting good ol' Sunnydale General. 

"Nope," Willow said, looking up from the book she was reading. Xander twisted his neck around to see the title of the book on the bind. 

"You're still at school, in the clinic. They were gonna cart you to the hospital, but you woke up and started mumbling about Chinese food. You slept until what, 8:00? They gave me a key to lock the door behind me once you were able to be up and a-walkin' again." She looked to see Xander contorting his neck in that strange direction. "Ew, stop doing that! You're going to snap something." 

"Doesn't hurt," Xander mumbled good-naturedly, but he straightened his neck away. Then he gave Willow a Look, the one that her father had perfected so long ago. "'WiccaCraft', Willow? Is that a book your father would approve of if he knew you were bringing it to school?" 

Willow's eyes widened, well, widely. "No, no! You wouldn't dare tell him!" Then her face got a haughty little expression on her face that Xander's mother had perfected so long ago. "I'll have you know, Alexander, that WitchCraft is a recognized religion in the United States and if Stacey Carson can lug her bible around I can carry a harmless little book of magick. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, Willow Algeria Rosenberg." 

"Ah!" Willow swatted Xander lightly on the arm when he spoke her middle name. "Don't say it aloud! You promised you'd keep it a secret!" Around the time they were in sixth grade geography, Xander found out her middle name was a country in Africa, and he teased her mercilessly about it as only sixth grade boys could. So even after Xander stopped with the teasing, she was forever horrified of her middle name. 

"Who's to stop me?" Xander asked, his mouth twisting into a little evil smile. 

"I don't know, Xander LaVerne Harris. Remind me again?" Willow knew she'd won when Xander groaned loudly and bounced his head against the pillow. For some reason, that reminded her of her responsibilities. 

"Do you feel up to walking out of here yet?" Willow asked, looking at Xander's watch. "It's 8:05 and I want to get home so that I can watch Charmed." 

"That show? About the witch sisters? Doesn't that come on at 9:00?" Xander asked. 

Willow shrugged. "I want to be early. Last time, I missed a whole 5 minutes. The entire teaser! I was, like, devastated," 

"I know," Xander laughed. "You wouldn't stop complaining about it for days." 

"Five," Willow corrected him. "Five days. And I wasn't complaining-I was whining. They're a little bit different from each other." 

Xander was silent for a while, just staring at the ceiling. "You know, you better move," Willow told him, putting her book away. "If Principal Snyder comes back and sees us not gone who knows what he's gonna do. I don't even know why he gave me the key in the first place." 

"Maybe he's growing feelings in a container somewhere," Xander suggested, and with the ease of a young, healthy eighteen-year-old boy, rose off the bed with no apparent difficulty and stood up. 

Willow just looked at him, completely shocked. "Wow, power-sleep," she said aloud, and the creases in her forehead deepening. Nobody healed like this after being totally knocked out. Besides, although Xander had gotten a rosy-hue to his skin, he didn't look completely recovered. But he sure did act it. 

"Well, I guess I learned something new about myself today," Xander said, shrugging and adjusting his shirt. 

"What's that?" Willow asked. Xander gave her another Look. 

"It's private." 

"Fine," Willow said in a mock-hurt voice. She crossed her arms and pouted like she used to when they were seven and he kept stealing her collection of My Little Ponies. "Don't tell me. I just," she sniffed, "thought we were friends." 

Xander grinned. "C'mon," he said, looking around to find his books. "Let's go the Bronze." 

"No way, Xander," Willow said, picking up his books, which had been lying next to hers, and handed them over. They walked side-by-side out of the clinic. "No matter what your miracle recovery, you are in no way up to Bronzing. You go home to your Mom, if she's there, and rest s'more, so that you can be at full strength for the test in Language Arts tomorrow." 

"You make too much sense, Will!" Xander said. They stopped by the school's front doors to wait while Willow pulled out the key. "I wish sometimes you would just be normal." 

"Normal on the Hellmouth?" Willow asked, unlocking the doors and shoving the keys into her overall's front pocket. "You're dreaming, Xander. Wake up." 

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"Mom? Mom! I'm home!" 

Xander had taken off his shoes in the foyer and now his bare feet attracted the cold from the cool tile floor, sending it shivering up his spine. Strangely, he did not feel that cold. Instead, he felt hungry, and he wasn't about to get in trouble for using his mother's credit card for food again. Nope, that Mexican Villa deliveryman had taught him a lesson, but his mother had also taught him a lesson, a 5,000-dollar lesson for harassing his female customers. 

His mother wasn't answering, so that meant one of two things. The first option was most likely, and although Xander disliked it, Lynda Harris did it regularly. She would go out for dinner with a "client", not come back to the house until 7 AM in the morning when Xander was getting ready for school, and then making up a little excuse as to why she was late. Xander already knew the truth: both he and Willow. Gosh, they knew everything about each other. 

The second thing was that his mother was upstairs with a cigarette and a bottle of wine, two things Xander always dreaded she would go back to sooner or later. And if indeed it were the second choice, Xander would be going through a hell of a night. 

"Mom?" Xander wandered into the kitchen, and found it a mess as usual. Opened cartons of food from the local German restaurant told him all he needed to know. His mother was upstairs, passed out on the bed. Honestly, she said repeatedly she would kick the habit, but she had a thing for German food, and it always got her good. 

"Oh well, a growing boy's got to eat too," Xander said, going around the kitchen table, He glanced to see if there were any messages on the refrigerator door, and then yanked it open. It didn't open, so he looked down to see the obstacle. 

The obstacle was his mother's body. 

Lynda lay on the ground much like a doll that had been carelessly thrown away by an angry toddler. Her face was white as a sheet and contorted into an expression of pure horror and shock. Her neck was twisted sideways and the flesh was ripped at the base, but the two, fresh bite-marks were still visible, dripping with unsucked blood. 

Oh god no. I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming! 

But no, he was awake, and his mother was dead. And he knew deep down inside who had done it. 

"Angel," he hissed through gritted teeth. His hands balled up into fists, and he visibly shook with anger. "I'll kill him." 

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"Five vampires tonight I killed-can I go home already?" 

Buffy was perched atop a large headstone, and nearby Giles was making himself and tools very comfortable on a bench. Buffy was sharpening her stake against the rough edge of the tombstone, and slowly the stake was disappearing. Giles looked on disapprovingly, and started to rifle through his bag for more stakes. 

"First of all," Giles said, pulling out about five stakes and tossing one to Buffy, "the correct way to phrase your sentence is 'I killed five vampires tonight-may I go home?' and to answer your question, no you cannot. I will not launch into another lecture on how this is your fate, duty, and likewise, because I have repeated it so much that the mere thought of saying it once again brings a sour taste to my mouth." 

"Bitter much?" Buffy asked. 

"Quite a long story." 

"Oh. Well, it's a long night." Buffy waited for him to explain himself, and when he didn't, she sighed. She started to sharpen the stakes that Giles had thrown to her. "I'm so bored." 

Something ran up from behind, and before Buffy could turn around and stake it in the heart, in knocked her to the ground. Buffy, angry, did a double kick and sent her assailant flying into the nearest tombstone. She got up quickly and ran over to her attacker, stake held up high, ready to plunge into the vampire's heart. 

She paused, though, and looked down confused. "Xander??" she asked, her eyes widening. "What-?" 

She didn't have time to ask it, and Xander to answer it, because he was again flew upon her in a rage, knocking her to the ground and this time around, knocking the wind out of her. She looked up into his face, and she saw hardened eyes full of hatred. Was he really this upset about what Angel had done? 

"Xander, please, don't make me hurt you!" She held him a good ways above her, but he grew angrier by the moment. 

"Don't make you hurt me? Don't make you hurt me! You already did, you b-h!" He spit the last word out with anger and then punched her hard on the face, with strength she didn't know he had. 

Then he was pulled off of her, and when the world came back into focus she stood up and saw Xander thrashing wildly, held back only by Giles' strong grip. 

"He did it! He did it!" Xander was screaming loudly, repeatedly. "Angel came and killed my mother! You b-h! He's doing this to f-k with your mind, and instead he's hurting me!" Xander stopped thrashing and his entire frame of mind collapsed, leaving him sobbing like a baby into his hands. "He killed my mother because you couldn't kill him. You lost someone you love and now you're making it happen to everybody." 

Xander's words were like a slap in the face to her, although the punch was significant imagery also. He looked up from sobbing into his hands and all the anger and hatred were gone from his tear-filled eyes. All that was left was a deep, infinite sadness that cut deeper into Buffy's soul than his previous rage. 

Meanwhile, Giles stood there, in shock. Angel had claimed another victim. "Did you call the police yet?" he asked quietly, looking at the ground. 

"No." Xander's eyes turned hard and accusing. "I came right here-blind with rage." His voice choked up. "I had to punish the person responsible." 

"No, Xander, Buffy was not the one responsible. It was Angel. Remember that." 

Xander glared at the oblivious Watcher. "Keep imagining that if it makes you sleep better, Giles. That doesn't cut it for me." 

Meanwhile, the accused just stood there, rubbing her swollen cheek. When had Xander gotten so strong? "You should call the police," Buffy advised quietly. 

A single tear ran down Xander's already soaked cheek, but he cried no more. "I'm going to. Right now. Even if it's just to get away from you." And with that he stormed off, hands deep in pockets and with such an air around him that not even mosquitoes would dare venture near him. 

Buffy watched him go, and then turned to Giles, who was still busy with the ground. "You don't . . ." Buffy didn't know how quite to ask this question. "You don't . . . think it's my fault too, do you?" 

Giles was silent, and the air around the two grew heavier. Then Giles turned away from her and walked back to his bag, packing up all his things that he had left lying around. 

"You can go home now," he told her quietly. 


	5. Chapter 4

"I'm not going to school today." 

It was 3:00, and Buffy was having a nervous breakdown. Her nerves were shot all over because she kept remembering what had happened just a few hours ago. She couldn't believe that they thought . . . and she tried her best to think, to know, that they were wrong. 

On the other end of the telephone line, a sleepy Willow was listening to Buffy's laments with only half her brain. "But you have to go to school," she said, yawning. She stretched her arms, wondering if she was going to get back to sleep. 

"But how can I face them? Xander, Giles . . . they're hurt so bad. A-and I don't know what to do." She knew perfectly well what to do, but every single fiber of her being compelled her not to. 

"You have to accept that they are going through difficult times," Willow said. She had just spent an entire hour and half listening to Xander over the telephone at the police station, and for some reason, she was a little bit more sympathetic towards him . . . never mind, she knew why. "They've been hurt pretty bad Buffy . . . they're not gonna get over this easily. This is going to take a lot of time, and they might never get over it." 

Ah, Willow. Buffy had thought she could give her a pick-me-up; instead, Willow was just digging her deeper. "I guess I'll just avoid then both," Buffy concluded dejected, letting the phone go slack in her hand. "No matter how hard that would be." 

Willow yawned loudly into the phone. "For the best," she mumbled. Then, "Are you going to get some sleep?" 

"Yeah, and you should get some too." Willow hadn't mentioned that she had just gotten a brief 15 minutes of rest in between her two best friends' agony. "I'll see you tomorrow." With that, Buffy hung up. 

Willow placed the phone back in the receiver and groaned. "Whatever happened to 'Dear Abby'?" she wondered as she slid back into bed, pulling the covers contently over her small body. She snuggled into her pillow and prayed to God that Giles didn't suddenly have the hankering to call on her so that he could unload his remorse. 

"Goodnight, Cow," she said, patting the beanie baby that slept on the side of her pillow. Then she closed her eyes. 

The phone rang. 

Willow said a very nasty word she heard her father say one morning not too long ago and threw off her covers. She stomped out of bed and yanked the phone out of the receiver. How was she going to be able to wake up for school tomorrow if she got no sleep? 

"Giles?" Willow asked sweetly, keeping her annoyance somewhat in check. 

"No, it's me, Xander." Willow's face went sympathetic and she sat down tiredly on her bed. "I don't think I'm going to school tomorrow after all." 

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Although his Aunt Janie and Uncle Todd had offered to take him in before they could locate his father, Xander had asked them and the officials if he could stay home for just a few more days, to be alone in the place that he would probably never see again. They had agreed: they were nice like that. But now, he wanted to be alone. 

He had gone straight to sleep as soon as he had gone home, flopping on the couch and only waking up to talk to Willow and tell her what had happened. Then he had stared at the unplugged TV, remembering how his mother had hated it, because it never worked. Only the one in his room had worked, and since nobody wanted to move it, Xander would have to put up with her in his room constantly, watching LIFE and talking to all her girlfriends and clients from work. It was one of his memories of her, one of the millions, but only one of the few that he actually didn't mind. 

Now, the large digital clock sitting atop the TV blinked "12:00" in large, glaring numbers. Xander's stomach rumbled hungrily, but nothing on earth could make him ever go to that kitchen again. So instead, he reached for his backpack, unzipped the front pack and began to munch the snacks he always kept there. 

He was happily munching on an Oreo when he realized that it was rather bland. He picked up the bag that it had come from and turned it over to read the date. Still fresh, he thought. Weird. He gobbled the rest of the Oreo up anyway, and wiped off the mess on his chin. Probably Nabisco had gotten something screwed up along the way, leaving him with stale cookies. 

"Oh well, chocolate always has a taste," he sighed, grabbing a half-eaten Hershey bar and peeling off the silver wrapping. He took a large bite of this chocolatey goodness, and let the candy stuff do magick with his mouth. 

Nothing happened. It was like drinking water-just no taste. Xander frowned and checked the date on the Hershey bar-not stale, and not even close to the expiration date. Groaning, Xander got up and hobbled to the bathroom. 

Dutifully, he dressed his toothbrush and slowly and methodically brushed his teeth hard. Then he used Scope three times and scraped his tongue, just wanting to get rid of whatever was crapping up his junk food lunch, not even caring that he was hygienically taking care of himself, an action unheard of with teenage boys. 

Xander leaned over the sink and spit out the remaining Scope he had in his mouth, remembering this time not to swallow it. Since the water was already there, he splashed his face a little bit to wake himself up. Then, out of habit, he looked up to the mirror to check out his reflection. 

And didn't see it. 

For just a moment, Xander went to turn off the faucet, but then he was so shocked he turned it on to the highest power. He looked back up to mirror, his heart leaping to his throat. To his great relief, his reflection was indeed there. 

"See, Xander, your reflection's not disappearing. You're not a, not a . . ." He couldn't say the word, but he felt an immense feeling of relief. For a moment there he had been scared, but now- 

And then, right before his witnessing eyes, his reflection flickered, and then faded altogether. 

Xander stood gaping in front of the mirror for quite some time, and then his mouth just dropped five feet to the floor. He stumbled out the bathroom, unable to keep his eyes off the mirror until it was out of his sight. 

"Shit," he whispered softly. 

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"So then he said 'It's purple, not blue', so Jake got so pissed off he ran out with Maria just five seconds later against her will. This can be big." 

Willow was seated at the computer with Buffy, the two females reading the synopses of their favorite soap operas at the official web sites. Of course, Giles thought they were searching for demon-oriented sites on the Internet, but girls would be girls. 

"Well, it is already big, but if Geoffrey would stop lying about this whole thing than Maria could finally get together with Tim," Buffy observed. She tapped the computer screen. "Next soap." 

Willow let go of the mouse and was typing in the Internet address of All My Children when the doors to the library burst open. Xander stormed in, and Buffy flinched reflexively, moving behind the computer for safety. 

Willow stood up and started with "Xander-" but he cut her off with a wave of his hand. 

"I can't see my reflection anymore!" 

Willow and Buffy were stunned, and Giles made his appearance at the top of the stairs. "What?" they all asked. 

"I-can't-see-my-reflection," Xander spit out rapidly, starting to pace back and forth, hands clasped tightly behind his back. "You all know what he, I, did, and I can't see my reflection, so am I demon or what?" His voice was rising. "I'm not in the mirror and I can't taste food! OK! What, do I grow fangs next?!" 

Giles mouth was the first to start working again. "Xander, are you on medication?" he asked tentatively, afraid Xander was going to blow up at him. 

"NO!" Xander yelled, throwing his arms up in the air. He stopped pacing for a moment. "Well, yes, but that has nothing to do with this! I was not in the mirror. You don't imagine that." 

"Xander," Giles continued, his voice warm. "Have you seen anything else strange that might have been the cause due to your medication?" 

Xander thought about this for a moment. "Well, I kept hearing voices telling me to eat Cap'n Crunch-but that's not the point! This is the real thing!" 

"Maybe Giles is right, Xander," Willow said gently. "You could be hallucinating that your reflection has disappeared. And maybe the medication did something to your tongue, or you're sick with something else. You were very weak, and you could've caught anything-" 

"Is anybody listening to me?" Xander yelled, exasperated. He marched up the stairs and passed Giles, till he stood in front of the mirror. He pointed at it and then stared at the three other people in the library. "Come see for yourselves!" 

Willow, Buffy, and Giles hesitantly came up behind him. They stared into the mirror. 

Three out of the four people standing there were reflected in the glass. 

"Oh dear," Giles said. 


	6. Chapter 5

Xander watched the astonished expressions on everyone's faces. Xander looked back into the mirror, just in case he suddenly appeared, but the light still bent around him, and he could see the bookshelves behind him, and the shoulder of Giles' coat that Xander was suppose to be covering. 

"Now do we panic?" Xander cracked, turning away from the mirror. He didn't want to look anymore. 

"I-I must consult my books immediately," Giles said robotically. He turned to look at Xander, with such a sympathetic face that it turned Xander's stomach. He must be in real trouble. "I'll find out what's happening, Xander. I promise." 

Xander just nodded and watched Giles leave. Then he walked over to Willow, who was still staring dumbly at the mirror. He came up to her and touched her gently on the shoulder. "Willow?" 

Willow stared into the mirror, and although she could feel Xander's hand on her shirt, all that appeared in the mirror was a slight dent in her bright red shirt, and not Xander's hand making it. "You're not in the mirror," Willow said, her voice trembling. "I know you're here but you're not * there *." 

"It's ok Willow," he soothed, and then caught her as she fell crying into his arms. "Giles will find something on this, and he'll find a spell or something, and then we'll stop whatever's going to happen. * If * anything is going to happen. I'm not going to turn into a conscious-less killer like . . ." 

Xander didn't dare say the name, but instead glowered at Buffy, who was still staring in the mirror. Since he had no reflection, she didn't see his scowl. 

"Xander, you don't know what'll happen. You don't . . ." Willow didn't have the heart to go on. She was just quiet, occasionally hiccuping, but finding comfort just by being in his arms. 

Buffy finally turned around, and looked at Xander with a face completely devoid of emotion. "Xander," she started her voice empty, but he cut her off. 

"I don't want to hear what you have to say," Xander said, his voice like steel. "I don't care what you have to say, and for the remaining life of me, I would like to never see you again, except that's kind of hard now, but don't worry, if your boyfriend finishes what he's started you'll only being seeing me at night." 

Buffy's mouth opened again, but if Xander's looks could kill, they would. 

"Dooon't start with me!" Xander said loudly, "'cause you'll lose!" 

Suddenly there was the loud bang as the swing doors opened and closed loudly. The three teens looked up to see who had come to join their bawlfest. 

"Hey," Oz said, dropping his stuff by the counter. Then he noticed the looks on everyone's faces. "What's happened?" he asked innocently. 

"I'm slowly, painfully, being turned into a vampire," Xander said with pure Oz blasé-ness. 

Willow started up again, this time inconsolable. Buffy just kept staring at the place where Xander's reflection was suppose to appear. Giles was still searching for an explanation back in the stack, and poor Oz was left standing there, with but one question: "Huh?" 

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Late into the night, Giles was still fervently searching through all his books, Buffy was out patrolling, and Willow was still crying with Xander at his house. Oz was left in the library with the Watcher, flipping through some old and musty books that possibly were not even written in English. Then a word caught his eye from a page. 

HALF-BREED 

Oz squinted and pulled the book closer to him so that he could read the tiny print. In the next ten minutes or so, he was engrossed in an interesting text about a cross between a human and a werewolf, which was caused only when a werewolf didn't completely bite it's victim. It seemed that a half-breed had complete control over when he turned into a werewolf or not, and could change without the need of a full moon: he could do it any time, anywhere, day or night. Cool. 

Giles voice broke his concentration. "Did you find anything?" he asked, shifting the weight of the books in his arms and leaning over Oz's shoulder. Oz glanced over at him, and then back at the book. 

"Um, no, but I did find something that could help me, I guess. About werewolves." 

"Oh," Giles said somewhat detachedly, quickly scanning the page. Several wrinkles sprouted on his forehead. "Perhaps this applies to Xander . . ." 

"So, what, he'd be like, half-vampire?" Oz asked. "Like Blade?" 

"Hmm, what?' Giles said, coming back to Earth. He gave Oz a quizzical look. 

"Um, movie, you wouldn't know. It's about a guy, w-who has all the good traits and some bad traits of a vampire. He can walk in the daylight, has supernatural strength and stuff, but still has to drink blood. I don't know about the reflection thing. Does that sound like Xander?" 

Giles shook his head disbelievingly. "It could apply to him yes," Giles said, "but the answer is much too easy. To . . . clean and simple. Nothing is ever wrapped up in such a neat little package in reality." 

"Well, who thought that vampires, werewolves, and Hellmouths existed in reality?" Oz tossed back at him, more in curiosity than to intentionally prove him wrong. 

"That knowledge was ignored by the human race until it existed only in mythology, but very few know that it is real. Because it * is * real. This 'Blade' you speak of, or a half-breed vampire, exists only in screenplays, and the minds of horror authors and the minds of the majority of the world's population. What's happening to Xander is truly happening, in real life, and not in a motion picture." 

"Just a suggestion," Oz muttered under his breath and Giles walked away, taking the book with him just in case Oz's hypothesis was indeed correct. Oz pulled another book from the pile resting on the table and proceeded to look for another case like Xander's, eyes open and aware for the slightest mentioning of lycanthrophy. 

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"Willow," Xander asked softly, "are you awake?" 

The soft breathing sound from the person who lay next to him told him all that he needed to know. Willow was fast asleep, snuggled next to Xander on his bed, right on top of the remote so that the TV kept switching channels whenever Willow tossed or turned. And she was doing that a lot. 

Careful not to wake his best buddy, Xander slowly eased out from beside Willow and got out of bed, all those annoying bones and muscles popping as he stood up and stretched his arms. Yawning widely, he stumbled across his room and into the bathroom. 

He sat there, not looking in the mirror, of course, because he was not there, but instead at a photo of him, Buffy, and Willow. He looked at his smiling face and tried to imagine it contorted into the shape of a vampire's face. Then he tried to imagine fangs. He shuddered. 

Then a sudden image flashed in his mind. Him, holding Willow, and slowly but surely draining the blood out of her- 

With a sudden yelp, Xander threw the photo across the bathroom. One sharp edge met with the wall and the photo tumbled to the floor, ending up stuck in an odd position underneath the clothes hamper-Xander was hidden from view, while Buffy and Willow were still in the picture, smiling widely. If there ever was a metaphor, it was there in plain sight. 

"Oh Xander, what are you going to do?" he mumbled to himself, putting his face in his hands. In no way imaginable could he ever deal with this crisis. 

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For hours now, Buffy had been calling herself names, telling herself what a horrible person and awful slayer she was, and had generally been piling herself with emotional self-destruction all night long as she patrolled the graveyard, staking the newly-risen vamps easy and with nonchalant indifference. The real problem at hand was that possibly, in a very short while, she might be adding Xander to the "dusted vampire" list. 

"Aw, lover, is something wrong? Why so down in the dumps tonight? Is it because your little friend is becoming a soulless demon?" 

Buffy froze, and then before turning around, she collected herself. And then she turned around, stake held high. 

Angel was only a few feet away from the Slayer, and he chuckled when he noticed the stake she held. "Who are you kidding," he sneered at his ex-girlfriend. "You're not going to use that on me. You can't kill me." 

Buffy knew that was true, but she wound her hand tightly around the stake until she thought she would crumble to dust it in her hand. "Why did you come after Xander?" she whispered in a deadly voice. "Why not me? It's me you're after, it's me that you're looking to pay back." 

Angel grinned, and it was hideous-looking when he did that with his game face on. "Hurting your friends is hurting you, and you know who I'm looking to hurt. 'Sides-Willow as a vampire? Didn't see it. And who wants Cordelia for an eternity? Don't even get me started at the Watcher of yours." 

"Why don't you make me a vampire?" she asked, still with that deathly calm. 

"Is that a request?" Angel teased. "I think not, though. I'm having fun torturing you, and if you go and be a demon, they'll be no innocent little thing of a Slayer-" he reached out to touch her ever-so-gently on her chin-"for me to mentally destroy." He stopped touching her and backed away. "And take a hint from Dru-don't try to resist! I always win!" 

By the time Buffy collected her wits, Angel had already left. Her bottom lip quivered as she realized how completely helpless she was around him. Who was she kidding? Although Angel was gone, she still held on to the hope that there remained the tiniest vestige of Angel in Angelus, somewhere. But it wasn't true, and it would never happen-yet Buffy continued to fool herself, because love and reality never truly fit together. Two puzzle pieces that look like they match, but no matter how many times you shove them together, they never fit. And eventually, you break one of the pieces, and the puzzle is forever ruined. 

"I-I love you, Angel," she whispered to the wind. "I just wish I could let you go." 


	7. Chapter 6

"Xander woke me up around two in the morning. Said that my mom would be worried. Said-" sniff, "-that I should go home right away while I still had a mother. He said, 'Who knows who Angel'll kill next in the name of Buffy?' So I said good-night, and then left him alone in his room, and I called him just now with the pay phone, and he's not there, so, we need to find him." 

Willow sat in front of the computer, furiously pounding the keyboard as she surfed the Internet and her favorite sites to try and calm herself down. Unfortunately, she was just pounding the keys harder and harder until she was sure the next time she hit that "e" key it was gonna fly off the keyboard. All her pent up rage at the powers at be were being taken out on this poor old Macintosh. It didn't deserve her pain. 

Finally she just let her hands rest on the keyboard, although they kept twitching frantically whenever the word "Xander" floated through her mind. Next to her, Xander put a comforting arm around his girlfriend. 

"You know, Buffy's not here today either," he said soothingly. "Maybe they both felt like they needed days off, far away from everything, you know?" 

"You mean they've run away?" Willow shrieked, almost jumping out of her chair. Oz set to calming Willow down, explaining what he really meant. 

"Yes!" came the sudden muffled cry from the back of the library. Willow and Oz turned around to see Giles come running out of the stacks, a thin little book that said "Journal" in faded gold lettering on the cover. Giles came up behind the two lovebirds and pointed to a passage on one of the open pages that were hidden from Oz and Willow's view. "This is it!" Giles said excitedly. "Two matching cases! I can't believe I found them, and in Reginald's Watcher diary of all places!" He set the book down, and suddenly acquired a serious expression. "Of course, though, this is a serious matter." 

The two Slayerette's and the Watcher leaned in to read the passage, which went somewhat like this: 

** 

Dear Journal, 

I am dreadfully sorry that I must report dire news today. It has nothing to do with my Slayer-in-training, Elisabeyta. No, she is doing quite well in her studies and training, and has done an exceptional job in keeping the vampire activity in our small town well under control. If ever called, she will indeed make a great Slayer. 

No, what I am writing about it a sad event. As you may notice, this page is dated a week after my last entry. It is because of what has happened-with Jacob and Seth. Time after time I was warned to never let my training Slayer to have any friends, family, or acquaintances, but I am always weak to Elisabeyta's whims-she is so gifted and outgoing, and she deserves to live somewhat of a normal life, especially since she is not on full duty yet. But this was a mistake, a mistake that could have been avoided, and now the results are quite dreadful. 

As written in my journal entries of the past month, Elisabeyta has angered one vampire in particular, one who goes by the name of Greenwalt, though I doubt that it is truly. Lately, he has stepped up his advances on her, but my Elisabeyta is much to clever to be caught off-guard. Alas, her two friends, Jacob and Seth, were. 

Elisabeyta had caught quite a fever from patrolling he night before in a chilling wind, so she was spending the night with her mother, who dutifully took care of her as only Mrs. Goody could. Jacob, Seth, and young, sweet Abigail were taking over Elisabeyta's duty, and Greenwalt, to put quite bluntly, drained the boys' of blood until they were at the point of death. Luckily, Abigail and I were able to take them home and miraculously, the bite marks disappeared, the boys healed in less then three days, and all was well. 

All * was * well. Nothing is ever well when dealing with the occult. Jacob and Seth began to exhibited oddities, such as strength they had never possessed before, the inability to taste food, the fading and then overall disappearance of their reflection, and several other symptoms, one which was a horrible sunburn from the sun that disappeared completely when the sun set and twilight settled in. All of us-Elisabeyta, Abigail, I, and the boys themselves-knew that Jacob and Seth would soon be vampires. 

When the sunlight bothered them too much and they were fully able to transform their faces into that horrible visage, we chained them into the basement below us and waited for the sun to set, in case they were demons, for we did not know if they would have souls or not, since throughout the ordeal the boys were still very much the same, except for an increase in intelligence, which I would recommend to many of the village people around here. 

As I was saying, we chained them up and then waited till twilight. Then Elisabeyta and I crept downstairs, and discovered the two boys completely passed out on the floor. For a moment there we thought they were dead, but Jacob woke up, and soon Seth followed. Neither exhibited signs of the demon taking over their body, so we led them upstairs. 

What a horrible mistake. Jacob suddenly turned on us and began to attack Elisabeyta, showing us that indeed a demon had taken over him. Seth, who seemed to have kept his demon soul, tried to pull Jacob off of her, but Seth was always the week one. The three of us watched in horror as Jacob turned around and neatly ripped of Seth's head, turning him into dust. Abigail keeps complaining of nightmares, and I am sure that hers shall never go away. I know that mine never shall. 

Soon after that, Elisabeyta killed Jacob, knowing that it was no longer her childhood friend, but a demon who had killed the true Jacob. She has not talked about this incident since it has happened, but I know that this will forever leave an imprint on her life. And I know that she will never, ever befriend anyone outside of Abigail and I. 

The most important thing that I want to stress to Watchers of the future is one thing: do not let the Slayer have a life outside his/her sacred duty. The results are indeed horrible and forever leave you broken and different. I repeat once again: * do not let the Slayer have any other kind of life other than the one she was born for *. It is a downward spiral from there. 

Signed, Reginald. 

** 

Underneath the Watcher's signature was some more text, written in the neat script that ladies of the olden days used to write in: 

** 

Since Reginald is long gone, and if I have my way, I shall be gone too, I feel that I must comment on this subject for future slayers. Yes, you will lose each and every friend you make. And the ones who are lucky enough to survive, like Abigail, you constantly watch day and night, afraid that you will lose them because of your incompetence. Please, so not put yourself through the misery I have experienced first-hand. Live your life as it was intended, so it does not have to end as mine did-at my own hand. 

May Abigail Stevenson and Reginald Thorpe rest in peace, as may the lost souls of Jacob and Seth Wilder, whom I shall miss long into my afterlife: Elisabeyta Susan Goody 

** 

All three of the persons in the library fell into respectful silence as they finished the journal entry. Then Willow's voice quavered, and then a sound managed to escape from her mouth. 

"We need to find Xander right away." 

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"The world is a vampire, sent to drain Secret destroyers, hold you up to the flames And what do I get for my pain? Betrayed desires, and a piece of the game." 

Xander slapped the car radio for the fiftieth time, glaring at the stupid machine that was putting him through the ringer. "Oh sure, go ahead," he said sarcastically to the piece of machinery, "make me more depressed." Xander muttered something unintelligible and then gripped the steering wheel to his mother's car tighter, causing the Jaguar to swerve nastily on the deserted back road. He straightened it again and then tried once again to shut the damn radio * off *. 

The knob was completely broken, and the Smashing Pumpkin's song poured out of the speakers: 

"Even though I know - I suppose I'll show All my cool and cold-like old job Despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in a cage (2x) Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved Despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in a cage 

Now I'm naked, nothing but an animal But can you fake it, for just one more show? And what do you want, I want to change And what have you got when you feel the same." 

The chorus played once again, and Xander stopped the car suddenly. He banged his head against the steering wheel about five times. "I'm a wreck," he said, shutting his eyes and sighing. "I deserve to be a wreck." 

The song continued on the radio station, and Xander tried to tune out, although the song was so damn catchy and so true in describing him at that very moment. 

"Despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in a cage Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved Despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in a cage And I still believe that I cannot be saved." 

Then the song ended, Xander thanked God loudly, and then revved the engine up again. He did a dangerous U-turn that should not be done in a little back road, and headed back towards the "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign he had passed awhile ago. 

A commercial was playing on the station, and Xander sighed in relief. "Now all I need them to play is 'The Unforgiven' and it's my best day ever." 

When the familiar strands of music started up, Xander said several naughty words and hit the radio so much that it finally broke, although he received a nasty swollen hand in exchange for complete silence. 

The road was bumpy and curving, and there were potholes as far as the eye could see. And he had driven quite a ways from Sunnydale, and would have to stop at a rest area to get more gas. Xander didn't mind that though: he wanted to delay his return as much as possible. 

"You are a * wreck *," Xander repeated to himself, squinting in the bright sunlight as he approached the familiar sign that that a rest area was up ahead. The sunlight was beginning to hurt his eyes more than usually, and he felt so damn HOT that he had ripped off his shirt a while back. "And you're a vampire." 


	8. Chapter 7

Xander limped into the library, an arm wrapped around his cramped stomach and dragging his left leg somewhat behind him. His hair was matted down to his scalp and dripping with sweat, much like his shirt, pants, and body. He managed his way across the library and collapsed into a chair, keeling over and putting his head down on the cool, wooden surface. One breath, two breath, three breath, four . . . 

"Xander, where were you?" Willow appeared out from Giles' office, and one glance at her friend sent her into major alarm-mode. "Oh my God, are you ok?!" she cried shrilly, running over to her friend. 

"Fine . . . just . . . fine," Xander managed to say between deep, calming breaths. His head was so dizzy that she lost balance for only a moment, but Willow reached out to support him. The soft touch of her hands on his chest sent a searing pain through him, and Xander yelped in pain. "Ouch! Willow, off, off! Sunburn!" 

Willow's eyes widened, and then she quickly pulled away. Xander was trying to accommodate himself in his chair when he noticed the size of the redhead's eyes. "Don't be so surprised," he said nastily, straightening his shirt. 

When he saw Willow's hurt expression, he softened. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm just not in the best of moods." He sighed. "I went driving, and then I walked. A very long walk. All the way here." 

"But you don't have a driver's license," Willow said slowly, trying to piece together what he was saying. Then she sucked in her breath. "You wrecked the car, didn't you?" she asked. 

"No . . . yes." Xander lifted his head off the table and instead placed it in his hands. "I was leaving the rest station, not really looking where I was going, and BAM! Right into a tree." He chewed on his lip, which looked as though they had already been through several sessions. "But I lived. And there are worse ways to die." 

Willow smiled weakly and him, and then glanced at the journal which was ominously discarded at the center of the table. "We found something," she said faintly. 

"I trust it's not good," Xander judged from the tone of her voice. "Can I see?" 

Willow was once again on the verge of tears as she handed Xander the floppy, ratty old journal. "Page's bookmarked," Willow said as Xander flipped through the thin, yellowed pages. She sat down next to him, waiting patiently as he read the passage. 

When he was finished, he gently closed the book and placed it as far away from him as he could without having to stand up. He stared at it, eyes blank as if he were looking at something in another time and place. A little moan escaped his throat. 

"So I guess now you know what to do," he intoned dully. 

Willow gave him a startled look. "Huh? What?" 

"Now you know what to do," Xander repeated, his voice slightly jagged. "Chain me up, find I'm a demon, slay, party, and then slay another soulless vampire the next night. And life goes on." 

"How can you * say * that?" Willow asked, her voice rising higher and higher. "How can you think we can do that?" 

"Easy," Xander said smoothly. "That's what needs to be done. And I'm sure Buffy'll be able to do it. She can't slay Dead Boy, but she'd slay me in an instant. She's sick like that." 

"Lovesick," Willow added softly. Xander snorted rudely, and then looked away. 

They heard footfalls on the steps, and Giles appeared behind them. "Xander," he said, nodding and acknowledging that he was there. "H-have you read . . .?" 

"Yeah," Xander answered. "And I just have one question." He twisted uncomfortably in his seat and wiped his brow. "How many days do I have left?" 

Giles hesitated, knowing that Xander would not like the answer. "One day," he said. "Two days if you are lucky. But the chances of that are very slim." He paused. "So sorry." 

"Don't be," Xander growled, anger and resentment seeping into his voice. "This is my fault. * I * drank Angel's blood: I wanted to and I enjoyed it. And Buffy's the top contender: if she'd been thinking with her head and not her * hormones *, I wouldn't be sitting here now, worrying about sprouting fangs in 24 hours. And you, Giles, would be having smoochies and who-knows-what-else with Ms. Calendar." He shifted his gaze to Willow. "And you would have your fish." 

The library was silent for a moment, then Xander plucked angrily at his shirt. "Dammit, is anybody else * hot * in here?" 

"Listen to me," Giles said, breaking the heavy curtain around the trio. "This is not your fault at * all *. You were seconds away from death, and Angel offered you life once more. No matter what free will a human being is capable of, it cannot override the ancestral urge to survive, which is forever stamped in your DNA." 

Xander looked at him, confused. Giles sighed, and continued. 

"Think of someone who has survived a suicide attempt. 99% of them say that at their point-of-death, when they are that close to passing over, they do everything possible to survive. It makes you feel somewhat sorry for the persons who do die-but that is not the point. The point is that Angel's blood was * there *, and no matter how strongly you knew it was wrong, your mind was not functioning properly, and all you knew is that you wanted to survive. And that was the only way. It was not your fault at all." 

Xander raised his eyebrows. "You haven't convinced me," he said sadly. 

Giles sighed. "Xander, you-" 

Xander held up his hand as the hair on the back of his neck rose. He turned to his left and to his right, and then stared at the Journal in front of him. He looked as though he was listening to something far away. 

"Buffy's coming," she said in an odd, detached voice. 

"How do you know?" Willow asked. 

"I have * no * idea," Xander said, still listening to whatever he was hearing. "But-she's right outside now-" 

Buffy entered the room, dressed in a long overcoat and high pumps. She saw Xander at the table and then demanded, "Why weren't you at your house?" 

Xander's eyebrows shot up. " * What * ? When do I suddenly have to report to * you * as to where * I'm * going?" 

Buffy's shield was a little thrown off by the furiousness that seethed in Xander's voice, but she held on to her own. "I didn't know where you had gone or what you happened to you," she replied. "I care what happens to a friend." 

Xander was absolutely still-no breathing, no shaking, no blinking whatsoever. Then he sucked a deep breath in. 

"Oh, so, Buffy, you care about a friend. You care about * all * your friends. Yeah, right, I can believe you. If you really * cared *, you would've sent Angel off to Malaysia or whatever, getting us rid of him forever. Instead, you had to do the Mattress Olympics with that * vampire * . Now your little world is crumbling around you, but you can't see past the falling walls. All you can see is Angel in that killer of an ex-boyfriend, and lemme tell you, he's a killer, all right. And he's showing you just how great a killer he can be." 

Buffy was hurt, but she was about tired of Xander's cruel mentions of Angel. "Leave Angel alone," Buffy said, matching the spite in her friend's tone. "And he is not after you he's after me." 

"We already had * that * discussion," Xander sighed, narrowing his eyes and remembering the ordeal at the cemetery. 

"Angel came to me again last night," Buffy said. "And he says that you were his target to hurt me, Xander. You were right. And I'm so sorry. But I'm going to make up for it, I swear. Angel's going down." 

Xander laughed, one so cruel and calculating that Willow had to refrain from gasping. "I hear 'going', so I say that you didn't kill the bastard last night while you two were having you're little talk. Obviously, if you couldn't do it then, you'll never do it later. And Buffy, I blame you. Blame you for everything. But go ahead and * not * kill Angel. Wait'll you see the carnage, and then you'll * know * what the hell you were doing wrong then." 

Buffy was smarted. This was a crueler version of an already tactless Xander, and she wasn't sure how much she could take from him/it. "I'm going through a lot, too," Buffy shot back at him. "I can't just forget all that I ever felt for him!" 

" * It * !" Xander practically yelled at her. "What you felt for * it * ! And now * it's * out there, probably killing tens of people around town, while you're here arguing with me about fuzzy feelings for this * monster * ." He cupped his hands around his mouth. " * Angel died the night you f-ked him! Now there's Angelus, and he is * using * him against you. Let * go * ! Don't dwell on what * was * !" 

The Slayer and the vampire-to-be were there, just glaring at each other, shooting daggers with their eyes. And then Xander shot up out of his chair and strode to the doors. 

"See you tomorrow," he growled as he left. "I'll be ready for the chains." 

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"Nothing like the Bronze to cheer me up." 

Xander Harris stood outside the Bronze, hiding in the shadows cast in the alleys. He watched teen after teen enter the Bronze and pal around with the new bouncer, a meek little man who didn't really do what his job entitled. * That used to be me * Xander thought. 

Then Xander gave himself a mental slap in the face and told the thinking idiot that it was * still * him. He had one day left as a mortal, and since he didn't want to see anybody but a quarantined Cordelia, the only things left to keep him busy were brooding or going to the Bronze. And he sure as hell wasn't going to turn into Angel in five seconds flat. Give it five days. 

Xander fell in step behind a pair of necking lovebirds, and waited as they convinced the guy to let them on in free of charge. The bouncer, after trying to talk them out of convincing him, gave up and stamped their hands before they were allowed to enter. Then Xander stepped up, rooting around in his pant pockets for cash. 

"Uh, that's ok, sir," said the bouncer quickly. Xander looked up to give the man a confused look. "You go on in right ahead." He motioned for Xander to enter, and without putting up much of a fight, Xander shrugged and headed on in. If he was lucky, he could also get a free beer or two at the bar. 

He walked onto the dance floor, which was thick and pulsating with couples dancing to the rhythm of the CD songs they were playing on-stage. No live entertainment tonight. Xander tried to squeeze through the dancing persons when he felt someone grab his shoulder. 

"Hey," said a voice behind him, and Xander turned around to see a kid about his age grinning widely and nodding towards two girls standing on a dark corner of the far wall. "Twins. Wanna share?" 

"Uh, no thanks." The kid shrugged and then brushed of his jacket, saying "It's cool" and walking over to the girls. Xander gave him a strange look, and then decided that he needed a drink really fast. 

He headed over to the bar, ready to order a Coke and a sandwich or something. He sat up on one of the stools and waited till a pretty blond in something red and velvety that pushed beyond the limits of a miniskirt came in front of him. 

"So, what do you want?" she asked, totally somewhere else and smacking her gum loudly. She looked at Xander with a bored expression on her pretty face. 

"Um, Coke and a sandwich," Xander muttered. The girl raised her eyebrows. 

"Sure you don't wanna beer?" she asked. 

Now it was Xander's turned to be confused yet again. "How old do I look?" he asked, wondering what the hell was going on tonight. 

"27, jeez, that's what mirrors are for. Do you own one?" The girl set about to pouring him a mug of frosty beer, with the froth foaming over the top of the can, running into a sticky puddle already on the counter. She grabbed a wrapped sandwich from a pile in a basket and slammed it down before him. "Anything else?" 

"No," Xander said, tossing a few dollar bills on the counter. Velvet Blond scooped them up and stuffed them into her apron. She grabbed a plastic cup from the stack next to the soda machine and began to fill it with Sprite, humming some tune from a movie. 

Xander had slid off the counter and turned away when he heard Velvet Blond scream out in pain. He turned back to see the cup of Sprite tossed away on the counter, and Velvet Blond holding her left hand with her right. The left hand was sliced down the middle, and blood was trickling out from the thin, perfect cut. 

Xander stood there, frozen to the spot, and other girls in the bar rushed to help her. All he could hear, suddenly, was the heartbeat of the Velvet Blond that thrummed loudly in his ears. He suddenly felt a hunger he had never experienced before, and he licked his lips at the faintest sight of the blood. He wanted to lick it off her hand; he wanted to bite down hard and draw more blood. He wanted to eat. 

Something growled, and at first Xander feared that it was him, but it was instead his stomach. The room had gone kaleidoscope on him, and all he could smell, hear, and see was the blood. 

And then he ran. 

Xander just dropped all his food, and as the beer mug crashed to the floor, he was already out of the Club The next thing Xander knew he was lying in a pile of overturned trashcans, hands clamped tightly over his mouth and slowly counting to ten. 

By the time he reached ten, he had calmed significantly down. The lust was gone, and he barely remembered what had happened in there. It was ok . . . and then the image of the girl's hands dripping with the sweet blood filled his mind, and the strangest thing happened. 

At first, it felt as though someone were pricking his face with needles. Then it felt as though his skin had taken on a mind of his own, and so rapidly he hardly felt it, it just * moved * across his face with it's own accord. Suddenly the alleyway around him twisted into a square and then stood upright again, although this time he could see everything from the tiniest speck of dirt on the wall several feet away to the large "Say No To Drugs" sign hanging on the same structure. His mouth felt like suddenly he had sprouted a million more teeth, and his cheekbones must have risen an inch or so. 

Although this happened in mere seconds, Xander realized what had happened. He had no mirror to look into to justify his guess, but he would bet his remaining hours of living that he had his game face on. 


	9. Chapter 8

The hooded figure walked rapidly down the empty halls of the high school. Classes were session, and the figure, hidden underneath the baggy, long-sleeved green sweatshirt, used this time to make his way to the library. Nobody would be in the halls. 

He wasn't counting on Snyder to be patrolling the halls for slackers. 

"Hey-you!" The sniveling voice of the school principal rang loud down the corridor. The figure halted suddenly, and then slapped himself on the head, muttering under his breath. 

The figure waited patiently until the troll-er, principal-caught up with him. Snyder approached the figure slowly, and then spun on his heel so that he was in front of him. He couldn't se the face, because the hood was pulled almost shut over the figure's face. 

"The Student Code of Conduct," Snyder started, smiling his little evil grin, "clearly states that the Dress Code does not allow head coverings of any kind, and hoods of sweatshirts are included. And I bet you know that I do not give warnings-I give punishments. Does detention sound good to you?" 

The hooded head slowly nodded in acknowledge. "Now take it off," Snyder sneered, quite happy at having bagged another slacker. 

The figure hung it's head, and then one sleeve-covered arm slowly peeled off the hood, exposing the pale face of Xander Harris. His eyes squinted at the sunlight coming in from the large window only a few paces away, and he held his hand over his face to shield himself, but was still able to see Commandante Snyder standing there, grinning with his sharp, little teeth. Troll. 

"Well, Mr. Harris. Why am I not surprised? And where were you headed to?" 

"The library, Principal Snyder." 

"Oh * really *. And why was that?" 

" * Because * ." Xander said, struggling to keep his anger at bay. Who knew what could trigger his game face? " The first time I do my homework, I leave it in the library. How's that for luck?" 

"Homework for what?" Oh no, what class was he suppose to be in right now? 

"Science," he answered. "Mr. Brodie. We were suppose to do-" 

"I don't care," Snyder said, cutting him off. "And I don't believe you either." 

Xander's eyebrows creased in worry. "But Principal-" 

"Quiet, Harris. I'm not afraid of cutting into you at all, now, that Mommy the Lawyer is gone. She's dead, and now I have free reign to make you start doing good in this school. Believe me, I waited for so long-" 

"Don't," Xander said calmly. "Don't you * ever * talk about my mother that way." 

Snyder's eyes narrowed into slits. "Don't you ever talk to * me * that way. That bi-" 

With fluid reflexes that were still strange and new to him, Xander grabbed Snyder by the throat and pinned him up against a row of lockers, several feet off the floor. Snyder immediately started kicking and trying to peel Xander's hands of his throat, which were as cold and as unmoving as stone. "Help!!!" Snyder shrieked. 

"If you * ever * speak about my mother like that I * swear * I'll do permanent damage do your shrunken little limbs," Xander growled, on the verge of completely vamping out. "And I'm not bluffing. You have * no * idea who you are messing with." 

Snyder just looked at him shocked. Since his face was turning a purplish red, he choked out "I promise. Just let me go! Let me go!" 

"Let him go, Xander!" 

Xander whipped his head around to see Willow and Buffy standing there in the hall, just in front of the library doors. They were looking at him with shocked expressions, and immediately Xander felt guilty and ashamed. He turned back to Snyder and felt a little less murderous. 

"Down?" he asked his captive. Snyder nodded quickly, and Xander let go of him, watching him fall hard on his butt and wince at the pain in his neck. Then Xander pulled the hood over his head and stomped off to the library, hurrying through the patch of sunlight, and pushing past Buffy and Willow, practically running inside. 

Snyder was left on the floor, rubbing his neck and staring up at the Slayer and the Hacker. They exchanged odd looks and then hurried off to their own destinations as quickly as possible. 

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Xander was headed as fast as possible towards Giles' office, but he couldn't escape Buff & Will. "The hell was that?" an angry voice demanded from behind. 

Xander turned around, to see an angry Buffy and a frightened Willow, who were both crossing their arms. He sighed, and then asked, "What was what?" 

"Xander, you were * hurting * him out there!" Willow declared. "He was turning red? How do you explain yourself?" 

"I have nothing to ex*plain*," Xander said, idignant. "I was only hurting him for a little while, until apologizing for being glad that my mother was * dead * . It's not like I was going to 8 kill * him or anything." 

"How do we know that?" Buffy interjected hotly. "Xander, who knows what's going on with you? I mean, I didn't know if you were going to hurt him or not out there! You were lucky I didn't suddenly rush you and stake you in the heart! You've got to control yourself!" 

"You don't have to so * why * do I!" Xander yelled back at her, realizing how juvenile and kindergarten-ish he sounded. "Shut up at leave me alone!" 

"Stop bringing up the past and * stop acting five * !" Buffy spat back. "We're dealing with serious stuff here!" 

"I know," Xander growled. "Why the hell do you think that I'm already here? I don't even know when I'll turn into *what*ever. I'm here to make sure that I don't go psycho and really kill Snyder, and you're hear giving me crap because of some little choking incident. I * want * to control myself. I can't * help * that I might slip!" 

He glared angrily at Buffy until she lowered her eyes in understanding. "Sorry," she murmured. "I was just worried for a moment . . . that I might actually have to do that then and there." 

"Don't worry," Xander said matter-of-factly. "You'll get to do it soon enough." 

Buffy was just about to retort when Giles came out of his office, apparently after hearing the exchange. "Stop fighting like children," he reprimanded harshly. "I will not allow that." Obviously, he was peeved for some reason unknown that lately had seemed to be bugging him. He held a piece of paper that was tightly clenched in his hand. He glared at the teens in HIS library and then stomped off to the counter to angrily stamp "Sunnydale High Library" into some books. 

Buffy went off to console Giles, which left Willow and Xander standing there, the redhead's fear dissipated. Then Xander stormed off into the office, slamming the door loudly behind him. The loud clinking of metal was heard. 

* I better go help him with those chains * , Willow though, heading towards the office door. * And maybe I can keep him company * . 

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Xander knelt by the far wall of the office, trying in vain to chain himself up. It was an impossible task-sure, you could handcuff yourself, but after that it was like you were trying to do the Wave in a straightjacket. And the worst part was that Xander had already handcuffed himself, and he didn't have the key. Dammit. 

"Dammit," Xander proclaimed aloud to the room and he tugged on his handcuffed hands again, just making the desk move more to the right and making the cool, click metal dig deep into his wrists. A little more than upset, he tugged once more again, and cried out in pain as the metal finally cut into his skin. 

"Let me help you with that." 

Xander looked over his shoulder to see Willow just closing the office door behind her. Xander sighed and shrugged. "Ok," he said, stepping as far back as he could while Willow examined what he had got himself into. 

"You're bleeding," she noticed as she unlocked him. 

Xander nodded. "Who cares." 

Willow was silent. Once he was unlocked, she sat him down and starting to methodically chain him to the wall, doing it exactly as Oz & Giles had shown her. Xander was staring off into the distance as she went about her work. 

"You know," Xander spoke up quietly, "I can do that thing." 

Willow kept a straight face, but was smiling inside from the fact that Xander was talking to her. "What thing?" she asked curiously. 

"That . . . ugly thing. With my face." He swallowed when he saw Willow's slightly creeped-out look. "Sorry. Shouldn't have mentioned it . . . don't know why I did." 

"It's ok," Willow said, turning the key in the lock. Now Xander most definitely could not move, and his vampire form would have a hell've a hard time trying to break free. She stepped back and instead of leaving, sat down cross-legged before him. "C-can I see?" 

Xander's head shot up sharply, and he looked at her like she was insane. " * Why? * " 

Willow shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. But can I?" 

Xander sighed. He ducked his head down, and when he looked back up he wore his vampire face. His yellow eyes were empty and read of shame and embarrassment. Then he looked away, face still vamped out. 

"I'm a monster." 

Willow's eyes teared up, and then she hugged Xander tightly. "Oh god Xander, you're not a monster. You're my best friend, you'll always be, and I * know * that this is going to turn out alright. Ok, Xander? Agree?" 

When she pulled away, Xander's face was back to normal, but his eyes still expressed those dark feelings. "Whatever you say, Will," he agreed without conviction. "But . . . I would like to be alone now. Until night. And then you can-" Xander checked himself before he blurted out "kill"-"check up on me." 

Willow looked at her friend and then bent over to kiss him on the forehead. "Whatever * you * say." She stood up and walked to the door. As she pulled open the doorknob, she looked back one more time. "I'll be right out there, ok?" Xander nodded, and then Willow left. 

And he was alone. 


	10. Chapter 9

The worried, hushed voices outside the office were to low for Xander to make out words, but the noise itself irritated Xander as he sat on the ground, pinned uncomfortably against the wall, and bound by chains and metal bric-a-brac. It seemed like he had been here forever, but he knew that he had been here only for a few hours. And some internal clock of his was * sure * that it would soon be sunset. And the dull fear in his stomach was now erupting into something much larger. 

Xander had tried falling asleep, but he only got quick five-minute naps because his body kept forcing him awake. He was afraid to just think, because sooner or later he'll start talking to himself and that would be driving himself insane. So Xander was spending most of his time just staring at the white-washed walls with his mind completely blank. It was like any regular school day-except after dark, he wouldn't be trying to fight vampires, he'd * be * one. 

It was incredibly boring in here. Xander had often wondered, in a slightly morbid way, what would be his last thoughts before he died. Now that he was having them, he realized that they were very dull. But the strangest thing was that right now, he didn't' really care if he died. He wouldn't want to live as a vampire, and going through this quick torture of turning into one was enough to send him over the suicidal brink. 

A memory of Willow and he when they were seven floated through his mind. It was funny, but you had to be there to be in the moment. Xander and Willow had been watch "A Charlie Brown Christmas," and then out of nowhere Willow started humming that dreidel song. The two of them had found it hilarious, and afterwards they always hummed it during the Christmas showing, just for the fun of it, even when they were sixteen & seventeen. Sigh. Memories. 

Xander leaned his head back on the cool surface of the wall, closing his eyes and sighing loudly. They must've heard it outside, because suddenly the voices and the shuffling were stopped. Then, after awhile, they continued again, and Xander laughed. 

"I'm so sick and tired of being alive," he told the room. "I want it all to go away." 

"Don't ever wish that," said a sad voice behind him. 

Startled, Xander practically jumped out of his skin, and then tried in vain to twist himself sideways so that he could see his roommate. Although it was irritating, he could finally twist his head far enough so that he could make out a face. 

In a second, red-hot anger flowed through his veins and his face vamped out. He struggled with all his might against his chains, racking against the wall, and he let out a bellow of a roar. 

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At the sound of the roar, Willow jumped out of her chair. She, Buffy, and Giles exchanged nervous glances, and then all three turned to look out the window. At least a half hour until sunset. There was still time . . . to decide. 

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The chains that bound him most certainly bound him, and no matter how many times he was trying to break free it just wasn't happening. So finally, he lay slumped there in defeat, glaring with yellow, hate-filled eyes at the person who stood a ways from him . . . Angel. 

"Come near me and I * swear * I'll break free," Xander growled, still working the chains, although he wasn't too exuberant anymore. He was breathing heavily, more out of habit than of actual need. If anything, the shackles and handcuffs seemed much more tighter pressed against his skin. 

Meanwhile, Angel was still standing there, with a strange sadness in his face, along with the feeling of repulsiveness. He peered at Xander, as if to examine him closely, and as he walked nearer Xander watched his every move with wary demon eyes. 

Finally, Angel knelt before Xander, examine every crook of his vamped-out face. Xander could only sit there, unable to do anything but growl ferociously. Then Angel spoke: 

"What did he * do * to you?" he asked, his voice laced with hidden pain. 

Xander looked at him in surprise. ". . . the hell . . .?" 

"How could I have done this?" Angel continued, his face twisted with inner angst. He looked pitiful-probably as much as Xander did at that moment. "How could I have done this to Buffy?" 

Xander was going to blurt out a "Do you remember * who * you are?" to the creepy form of the vampire that stood before him, but the mention of Buffy once again angered him. "How could you do this to * BUFFY * ?" he screamed at the vampire. "Dammit, will you people notice who's the real victim here?" 

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Buffy was busy twiddling her thumbs, Willow was busying herself with trying to figure out what her totem animal was, and Giles was being Giles. Buffy, though, was the only one listening to this conversation Xander was apparently having with himself. 

He's going insane, Buffy told her head. Sometimes I think I am too. 

You are, retorted the voice. More and more you keep coming to me. Get a stuffed animal or a shrink. I've got better things to do with my time. Then the voice clicked itself of again. 

Buffy's grip on the edge of the table tightened considerably, while her grip on reality slid back down a little. 

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Angel stepped back as though Xander's words were a physical prescense, pushing him backwards. Then he blinked at Xander, and then said, "You don't get it." 

"No * duh * , Dead Boy," Xander said hotly. "One minute your toying with the idea of making me a demon and the next you * apologize * for it? No crap I don't get it. Would you?" 

Angel did some more of his mournful blinking-stare things and then turned to Giles' desk, which had been cleared in case Vampire Xander felt the need to throw things at the Slayer. Angel looked at it, stared at the glassy wood, and then rested his hand on it. 

Well, that's what he looked like he meant to do. What really happened was the act of his hand going straight through I, and acquiring a sort of ghostly glow. Xander sucked in his breath, and then withdrew it sharply. "What was that?" he asked, suddenly afraid. Angel the poltergeist? Too weird. 

But wait. Why would Angel be ghost-like? He was still alive: very much so, and making more of his kind. Yet, here was a spirit talking to him- 

"Whatever you are, you better get the hell out of here before I figure out a way out of these chains. 'Cause I'll kill you-" 

"I'm not here for you to hate me," Angel said. "I'm here so that you can give Buffy a message." 

Xander snarled. "I'm not going to her anything from * you * ," he sneered. "I'd rather die." 

"You are," Angel said sadly. "I can't believe that I did this to you." 

"What the hell * are * you?" 

Angel paused. He traced dust on the table with his fingers, not stirring it at all. When he finally looked up at Xander, his face seemed to have paled. "I'm the soul. The good, of Angelus." 

"My life is not * too * complicated," Xander muttered. "You're * what * ?" 

"I can't explain this all to you now, Xander. I only have some time to appear to you. Even though you have vampire psychic powers, you don't have the amount that makes me able to stay longer. Ah . . ." he trailed off. "Willow isn't trained enough to receive that kind of communication either." 

" * Willow * ?" Xander exploded. He tried to stand up, but those chains pulled him down before he ever stood. " * What * is she not trained for?" 

Angel's eyes grew wider. "I-I'm not the one to tell the information. It's not my place . . ." he acquired a pained expression. "I only have something for Buffy." 

Thousand of possibilities were flashing through Xander's mind, but the forming thoughts were slowly slipping away from him, like pouring water. Then the thoughts were gone altogether, and Xander was left with only the faint impression of Willow's image in his mind-not at all unusual. 

"What message do I have to give her?" Xander grunted. "That is, if I still have my * soul * ." Angel didn't bat an eyelash. 

"I want you to tell her that I said to kill me." He swallowed. "Kill me already. I can't stand to see me doing all this stuff you her-to you-to everyone. And it hurts to know that I'm feeling great about it." 

"I've been telling her that for what-forever?" Xander said. "What'll make her listen now? Like she'll really believe me. She doesn't listen to anything that I say. Otheriwse you would've been dust so very long ago." 

Angel nodded. "I know. This is a slim chance, but she might listen . . . you never know what can happen. She just might see that you aren't lying, and-" 

Angel cut off mid-sentence as his image started to flicker. "I can't stay long," he rushed. "I have to go back. Xander, promise me you'll tell her. Please . . ." 

Xander looked the vampire-soul coldly in the eye, keeping his mouth firmly shut. "You can count on me to say it," he said icily, "and you can count on me to do it myself if I have to." 

The image faded and flickered away without another word. The silence once again settled around him, and the voices outside increased in volume. They ran together, like a stream, and Xander's thoughts flowed with them. He was so tired, so confused, and above all, so bitter . . . 

And then the pain came. 


	11. Chapter 10

Buffy and Willow were discussing one of the passages from the rest of Reginald's journal when the thundering scream of pain came bursting out of the room. Willow dropped the journal and covered here ears. Buffy did the same. There was a swear from the bookshelves and Giles came running out, a frightened expression on his face. 

Then the scream ended as abruptly as it had started. There was no sound whatsoever, and everyone in the room exchanged nervous glances. Willow looked downright scared. 

"Oh god, it's Xander," she whispered. "What's he going through . . .?" 

Another scream came, one much more louder and sounded vaguely like he was yelling "Help!". It ended in gurgling sounds and then there was only the sound of metal scraping against metal. Willow looked nervously at Buffy. 

"Maybe we should-" she started. 

"No." Giles had sat down hard next to her, and was staring at the room a though he were in a daze: as they all were. "We can't go in there. It doesn't sound safe. 

Something hit the wall-they didn't know what-hit the door and it bent under the weight. They all held their breaths, but the door stood firm. The object kept bouncing around the room though, thumping against the emptiness. 

What * is * going on there?, Buffy asked herself, The voice provided no comment. 

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A twisted growl escaped from somewhere deep inside Xander as he was once again tossed at one of the walls like a rag doll. His body convulsed terribly as he hit the floor hard, and the metal that still hung on to his handcuffed hands reared up and slapped him in the face. He roared in pain as another jolt of seeming-electricity shot through his body. It was really the demon trying to claim its new territory, and it was extremely pissed off that it was taking more time than usual. 

The world spun once more, and Xander's handcuffs finally burst as his hands were brought to his aching head. Visions from another place entered his shaking mind-of a place dark and red with fire, Hell. Of places cold and dark and without color and feeling, limbo. Horrible things that this demon had done flashed through his mine, and he moaned loudly for all that he saw. And within seconds, he was airborne again, as the demon tried to burrow his way into Xander's body and kick his soul out for good. 

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As the sounds of struggle subsided to a low growl and the occasional howl, Buffy eyed her Watcher. He, in turn, looked at his watch, and noticed that it was about time sunset would be over. He looked at the watch and nodded. It was twilight indeed. 

The growl was fading, and then there was only the sound of clacking metal. Willow's nails were digging into her skin, and Buffy had long ago broken the arms of the chair that she was sitting in. Now Giles nodded at her and gave her to go ahead. With a nervous glance at Willow, Buffy rose and walked to the office. 

The door opened easily, and Buffy gasped as she entered. The desk was overturned and sitting clear across the room, in a corner. The chains were in molten metal chunks scattered all over the room, and there were dents and scuffs in the wall and in the door. Xander was no where in sight. 

Yeah right. Buffy had been sneaked up by seemingly invisible vampires before. She turned around in a circle, and then decided that Xander must be behind the desk. Why he was hiding, she had no idea. 

Slowly, she climbed up on the desk and looked over. Xander was there, turned away from her and curled up, shivering, in the fetal position. His clothes were slightly ripped and torn, and he was stuck up against the walls, remnants of the handcuffs still around his wrists. 

"Xander?" Buffy asked. 

Upon hearing the sound of her voice, Xander froze. Slowly he began to uncurl himself, and still facing away, he stood up. Once all straightened up, he said in a flat and emotionless voice, "Please leave." 

Buffy paused. Should she go? What should she say? This was very awkward. So she didn't do anything at all. She just stood there, spinning the stake in her hand, and wondering if Xander was suddenly going to turn around and eat her for dinner-or breakfast. 

"Did you here what I said?" Xander's voice was very soft, almost so that she couldn't hear it. He turned his head to the side, so that she could she his outline, but then he turned back to facing the wall. "Please leave. I'll . . . be out there soon." 

Buffy turned around on her heel without saying at word. What * would * she say? Anything and everything would come out stupid. Buffy realized that conversation would be very hard to deal with Xander from now, unless they were arguing. That would always be easy. 

Willow and Giles were anxiously searching her face as she exited, and with reading her look as "confused," they were equally so. "So I assume that Xander has not been taken over by the demon?" Giles asked, straight to the point. 

"No, he . . . wants to be alone," Buffy said, walking up to them. They all huddled around each other in front of the mirror. "He said he'd be out there soon. I . . . don't want to rush him." 

"You shouldn't," Giles agreed. "None of this should be taken lightly in the least. 

"What he must be going through . . ." Willow trailed off. 

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Since all three of them were standing in front of the mirror, it was a joke that Xander had to sneak out of the library. Instead, he just casually walked by, his footfalls making not a sound, his reflection not appearing. They were utterly oblivious to his escape. They didn't even hear the swinging doors shut behind him as he left the library with only one thought on his mind. 

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"It's been awhile, hasn't it?" Willow asked. Oz had appeared a few minutes earlier, and now the four of them were sitting in the library, waiting for Xander to come out. He still hadn't, and now they were getting worried-and Buffy suspicious. Willow gave Buffy a nervous glance, and Buffy turned towards Giles as to ask, * What do I do * ? Oz just looked back and forth between all of them. 

"Maybe you should check on him," Oz offered. "See if he needs help or anything with, uh, something. I don't know. Whatever's keeping him locked up in there." Giles agreed. "We should check up on him. We don't know exactly if Xander is well or not. Remember what happened with Jacob and Seth-" 

"Well, than why didn't he attack Buffy?" Willow asked, in defense of her friends Even if Xander was a demon, she would never come to terms with it. It wasn't Xander. And it was * not * his fault. 

"I'm going to check on him," Buffy said, putting her hands down on the table and rising out of the chair. "Wish me luck." She walked over to the office and entered. 

Immediately she reappeared, her face pale. "What is it?" Willow demanded, her stomach suddenly cold and empty with fear. 

"He's not there," Buffy informed them. "He . . . left." 

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The factory had burned down, so for now Angelus, Drusilla, and Spike were homeless. In a sense. They were currently residing in an old and disgusting abandoned warehouse next door to the smoldering remains, until they found someplace new that they liked. And considering Dru's picky taste, they might be here for awhile, because neither Spike nor Angelus wanted to upset their unstable psychic vampire. 

"Angel . . ." Drusilla walked up behind him from where he sat in the chair. With her two index fingers, she traced an invisible pattern on his shoulders. "The stars are whispering sweet secrets again," she told him in his ear. Then she giggled and snapped her teeth, pulling far back so that Angel couldn't turn around and catch her in a kiss. She laughed and danced far away from Angel to the other side of the room, with Spike. 

Spike, who had been watching the little scene from his wheelchair, glared at Dru as she sat comfortably in his lap. "The stars speak of such things the moon would never tell," she announced to both her lovers. "The moon knows nothing. It's all in the stars. Thoughts . . ." 

She trailed off, staring dreamily at absolutely nothing on this plane. Her long black hair fell down her knobby, bare shoulders, and her large black eyes were glassy and glazed. "Do you want to know what the stars had to say about everything?" she whispered to the ceiling. 

"Do tell, Dru," Angel said, turning around in her chair. Drusilla looked back at him and then let out a throaty laugh. 

"To do, with you, angel, but not you only," Dru laughed. She leaned close to Spike as though to kiss him, but instead she whispered in a low voice. "The oak'll win in the end. As it should be." 

"Speak up, Dru dear," Angel said. "I didn't quite catch it." 

"The oak." Drusilla repeated again. She leaped off of Spike's lap and walked around the room, idly wringing her hands. "It wins, we lose, but we can always tell from the lie. Can we?" She directed this question more to herself than anyone else. "Sometimes we can't. But we are very clever, vampires we are. Agree? Yes, I do too. Rather . . ." She let her sentence hang there, and then fell to the floor, managing to land gracefully somehow. She looked down and smoothed her red-and-black dress. "Where is Miss Lizbette? She must retire for the night. It is awfully cold for my dolly . . ." 

Angel sighed and went back to his evil-little brooding thing he had going on. Concocting a plan to screw with Buffy's mind even more, he was bothered by Drusilla's outbursts, especially when they meant absolutely nothing. And this time, her visions seemed like gibberish. Hence, he ignored her. 

Spike sighed and rolled his wheelchair further into the shadows. Drusilla, no matter how recovered she seemed, still had her little, subtle bouts of lunacy. When she got this way, it was best to ignore her or and it was definitely not good to humor her. It only encouraged her. 

"Someone is coming to visit," Drusilla announced again. "We are to have company. Look your best and impress your father, Dru!" 

Oh great, Spike thought. As much as he loved her, when she went into her first-personage, it got fast real quick. Let's just hope that she doesn't start reenacting her twelfth birthday. It's a killer. Makes me wish I was dead-again. 

Suddenly there was the sound of thumping footsteps behind him, and Spike twisted his neck around. Not too far, in the shadows, was the still form of that human creep, Xander. 

"What the hell is he doing here?" Spike asked, getting both Angel and Dru's attention. They looked at the boy, Angel with a slightly confused face, and Drusilla with a happy smile. Spike was upset. 

"I ask again, * what * in the bloody hell is he doing here?" 

Angel was about to explain when Xander emerged out of the shadows, at the same time morphing his face into it's evil visage. He grinned widely, exposing his fangs. "Figure it out for yourself, Spike," he told the vampire, practically leering. 

Spike was shocked, Angel was figuring out what was to become of this, and Dru was rising from where she was on the floor, hands clasped tightly in joy. "Oh goodie," she said, walked towards him as though she were floating on air. 

"A new playmate." 


	12. Chapter 11

Giles had been telling her as far back since the first time that he met her to use her special Slayer senses. Buffy had always disregarded that aspect of training-the physical Slaying abilities worked pretty well, and her regular human senses got along just fine in the job of Vampire Slaying. But now, as she was stalking Xander, those senses stirred deep within her and she just * knew * were they were headed. 

At first Buffy had thought Spike, Dru, and Angel were awfully stupid to actually put up their new little hangout right next to the one Giles had burned down not-so-long-ago. But as she mulled over it, she realized that it was rather ingenious in a way. Certainly she would never think to look for them in that sagging place of a structure, especially since it was right next to the remains of the factory wreckage. It just seemed very unlikely. 

So of course they would trudge on over here and set up camp. Buffy was so awed that her sensing powers were working that she ran as fast as she could to the warehouse where she felt the vampire sense the strongest. 

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Drusilla spun around several times before coming up behind Xander. She took a long nail and traced it slowly up his side, until it was resting just above his neck. She leaned in, and just brushed her lips alongside his ear. "Ooh, this will be fun," she giggled. 

"Well, I wasn't sure if it would wok, but I guess it did," Angel said with a devilish smile, standing up from his chair. Spike stuck his legs out in Angel's path, but the vampire simply stepped casually over it. Spike glared at him as Angel went up to Xander. 

Xander didn't budge as Angel slapped him heartily on the back. He just grinned and watched as Drusilla danced away from the two and into Spike's wheelchair-bound lap. "There will be short times to do many a thing," she told the inhabitants of the warehouse. 

Angel turned to Xander, still firmly holding onto his shoulder. "So, how's it feel to be evil?" he asked. 

"Couldn't be better," Xander growled. He morphed back into his human face and let his eyes roam across the large room they were standing in. "You've got quite a place here," he commented dryly. 

"It'll do for now," Angel said, letting his eyes roam also. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his tight pants. "For now." 

" * So * ," Spike said in one loud breath, starting to roll towards them. Angel narrowed his eyes, but Xander studied the handicapped demon with curiosity. "I suppose he's on of * us * now?" He jerked his fingers towards Research Boy. 

"Yup," Xander answered. He wiggled his eyebrows. "Ready for the competition, Spike?" 

Angel laughed aloud as Spike narrowed his eyes. "I like your new self already," he told the newest member of the Fang Gang. "And I can bet you're gonna like it around here." 

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Buffy was crouched behind several rusted pieces of the decaying catwalk, high above anyone's view. Her fingers wrapped even tighter around the metal sidings as she watched Xander, who was palling around with a Angel, fawned over by Drusilla, and getting evil looks cast by Spike. He was acting just like he had been around the trio forever, and they were readily accepting him. 

Buffy's eyes teared up. Giles, Willow, and Oz were still in the library, armed with stakes, crosses, and holy water, in case Xander cared to pay a visit. Oz had been comforting Willow when Buffy had closed the back door behind her, but she suspected that the hacker would realize by now that Xander had already died. This demon was not him. 

Buffy also realized that it was the same case-in-point for Angel. This new demon in his body was Angelus, not the man she had fallen in love with. But she could not realize that-and perhaps Willow would never realize who Xander was. 

She reached into her coat pocket and grabbed one of her stakes. She planned to jump off the catwalk, knock Xander down, and possibly get him * and * Angel in one strike. Maybe even add Drusilla in, if at all possible. Spike didn't seem like much of a threat at the moment. 

But plans don't always go as planned. 

Someone came up from behind and punched her in the head. Dazed, she turned around in time to deflect another blow that would have certainly taken her out. The vampire who was attacking her obviously had brawns but no brain, and she was easily dodging his strong hits, without disturbing the catwalk in the least and without a sound from Clumsy. 

Meanwhile . . . 

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Angel was making some cracks at Spike's condition for Xander and Dru's amusement. Spike was glaring at he world, and Xander didn't blame him. Angel was acting pretty harsh. But god was it hilarious. 

"" Angel said, laughing uproariously. He turned to Xander. "True, don't you think?" 

Xander nodded. "" 

"Hey!" Spike said. " * You * better not make fun of me, you wanker. Just who do you think you are?" 

"Aw, let him have some fun, Spike," Angel said, patting Xander on the shoulder. "He's one of us, now." 

Suddenly there was the faintest of all sounds up on the catwalk. All four vampires shot their heads up. 

"It's * her * ," Dru moaned, putting a fluttering hand up to her head. "She has intentions on destruction . . . again!" 

"So she * does * ," Angel said, smirking. He put a fatherly hand on Xander's shoulder. "How do you feel about fighting * her * ?" he asked, looking up at the catwalk and watching the oblivious slayer. 

Xander eyed Angel's hand on his shoulder. Slowly, his face vamped out. He reached into his pant pocket and pulled out a thin stake that fit easily in his hand. "I'd feel fine," he said, right before he moved to plunge in into Angelus' heart. 

Suddenly Angel whirled around and grabbed Xander's hand, thrusting it over his head. His vampire smile was almost as disgusting as the fleshy ridges sitting on his forehead. "Sometimes," he told Xander, "even a vampire can't trick a vampire." 

Xander's eyes widened as Angel kicked him hard in the shin, causing him to bend over in pain. Still holding his arm, Angel kicked him in the face, and then used his arm to propel him across the room. Xander howled in pain as he slid to a halt in front of Spike's wheelchair. 

"Ooh, goody!" Drusilla said happily, clapping her hands together and watching with large eyes as Angel came and picked Xander up off the floor, throwing him back by the catwalk. Spike sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. 

Xander landed hard on the ground, and the pain that reverberated through him cause him to come out in full vamp-mode. The strength and anger of the demon that only 1/3 inhabited him came out with it's strength and rage, and most of all, it's power to heal itself very quickly. As Angelus came up from behind, Xander jumped to his feet and met his foe with a staggering punch to the chest. 

Angel was taken aback, but he retaliated with his own demon powers. He punched Xander in the face, bruising the flesh with his hard knuckles. Xander didn't move, and instead knocked Angel to the ground, getting on top of him and pummeling him with his fists. After several good knocks Angel got on top, and the younger, weaker vampire grunted with anger as he tried to get the upper-hand. 

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This vampire was coming on pretty strong. Buffy had to dodge all his well-aimed advances, and she couldn't even understand him because he was grunting in German or something. She had dropped her stake awhile back somewhere she had forgotten, and whenever she tried to reach into her coat for more, the vampire would throw her of completely and she'd end up doing the fisticuffs routine. This vampire was intent on bagging a Slayer. 

Buffy grunted-quietly-as she finally grabbed one thick arm. She twisted it and watched the vampire fall hard on his back. She had enough time to pull out a stake and plunge it into his heart, and Clumsy was dust before he could even utter a sound of surprise or pain. 

"You were a good fight," she consoled the setting dust. Then she stepped on it, as to mark her territory. 

The one thing a slayer should always check is if her shoes are tied, because if they are untied, wackiness can ensue. Such as tripping over them, losing your balance, leaning on a guardrail for support-the guardrail then breaks, causing you to fall about two floors down onto the warehouse floor where four vampires are engrossed in a fight. Which, of course, is exactly what happened to Buffy. 

Buffy landed cat-like on all fours, not a hair on her head disheveled or one nail broken. She quickly stood up, and even before she had time to absorb her surroundings, she was knocked back down again. 

Buffy fell on her shoulder, and loudly exclaimed her pain. Angel and Xander, who were still engrossed in the fight, were completely unaware of her. 

Since the two brawling vampires were almost on top of her, she truly didn't care why there were fighting. All she noticed was that Angel and Xander had broken up for the moment, and Xander was the closest vampire next to her. She quickly grabbed yet another stake and rolled over onto her side until she was right next to him. Rolling up on top, she plunged her stake home. 

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Xander had finally managed to toss Angel off of him. At first, Xander had tried choking him, but quickly realized that vampires didn't breath. Then he concentrated on beating him to a bloody pulp, which had finally made the vampire roll off of him. Now, as he was just about to rise up, he was knocked down again. 

In a blur, Buffy was on top of him. Dammit, she had found him. He was hoping that they wouldn't come into the office and discover his disappearance before he had annihilated Angel. Now, it seemed, that the Scooby Gang minus a member had indeed, and they had sent the Slayer. Everything was going wrong. 

Xander opened his mouth to tell Buffy everything was fine when he saw her pull out the stake. Immediately he tried to sit up and get out of the way, but Buffy was steadfast. She pushed him back to the ground and plunged her stake into his flesh. 

As Xander felt the wood go through him, he looked up into Buffy's sad eyes. His own were cluttered with anger, pain, and disbelief. She hadn't, she hadn't, she hadn't . . . 


	13. Chapter 12

She hadn't, she hadn't, she hadn't . . . 

. . . hit her mark. 

The stake stuck straight out of Xander, protruding from the right side of his chest, causing incredible pain all over. Xander growled, morphed, and shoved Buffy off without much care as to hurt her or not. Right now he wasn't thinking, and just blinded by the pain. 

Buffy, who had been "shoved" clear across the room, hopped back to her feet and saw Xander hobbling towards the exit, clutching the stake that was deeply submerged in his chest. *I missed, Buffy thought. Did I do it on purpose, or am I just losing it?* 

Next to her-way too close for comfort-Angel was already standing and chuckling softly. "You just keep making it easier and easier for me, don't you, Slayer?" he asked her, and then turned away from her, walking back towards his little dysfunctional family, Dru and Spike. 

Buffy stood there, mouth agape, wondering what had gone wrong. And then suddenly, like it sometimes happens, everything clicked. 

Obviously Xander had not been taken over by evil. He had to sneak out to kill Angel because he would never really get the chance, what with Willow fussing over him, Giles wanting to study him, and Buffy with the basic argument of her not wanting anyone to kill Angel. So he had sneaked out and planned to come back as soon as he killed Angel. Xander had tricked the vampires, pretended he was one of them, and then went it for the kill-which then failed. So while he and Angel were fighting, Buffy had fallen on in, and staked poor, innocent, good-intentioned Xander-in effect preventing him from giving Angel what he deserved. 

Angel, who had draped an arm around a coy Drusilla, turned back to look at Buffy. "What, are you still here?" he laughed. Then he turned back to the female vampire. "Leave, lover." 

Buffy's mind was racing a mile a minute, and her body stood helpless. Oh God, what would Xander think of her now? She had to get to him, and-oh God, he would go to the library, and he would be massacred! Buffy turned on her heel and ran out of the warehouse as fast as she could. 

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They had it all planned out-they had made sure of that before Buffy had gone to find Xander. Willow and Oz were positioned at the door; Willow armed with a large cross, and Oz with two open vials of holy water. Giles was farther away, by the table, holding a crossbow that, if need be, could easily be aimed at the door in a matter of seconds. Also, all three of them had stakes, in case anything failed. 

Willow didn't want to kill him. It didn't matter if Xander had died and this new evil had taken over him. When he had shown her his vampire face, as monstrous and vicious and downright grotesque as it might have been, she still saw only her best friend since forever. Not a demon, not whatever Buffy claimed would wreck chaos and destruction right along with Angel. 

No, now Willow was on the other end of the spectrum. She knew where Buffy was coming from with the Angel/Angelus deal. Buffy kept saying to herself that Angel was still in there-and maybe he was. To Willow, Xander would always be in there. And if only she could find the spell of restoration . . . damn gypsies! If they had just staked Angelus on the spot for killing their favorite daughter, then none of this would have happened! Buffy could do her job without any such qualms and Xander would be sitting in the library, complaining about having to do more research, cracking bad jokes, and making out with Cordelia in the bookshelves! Instead, he was probably feeding on half the population of Sunnydale, for all she-they-knew. 

There was the sound of heavy footfalls in the hallway. Everyone's head shot up, and they exchanged nervous glances. It had to be Xander. Buffy wouldn't walk like that, and the school was deserted-not even Snyder wished to stay after 5:00 or so. 

Willow gulped. Could she do it? Could she thrust this cross into his face? Her shoulders began to shake, and before Oz could move to comfort her, she had stopped. 

She would kill him, if she had to. She wasn't afraid. It wasn't Xander. Xander had died, and the only way to avenge his death was to kill this monster which had overtaken him. Yes, she would kill this vampire, and the next, and the next, and the next . . . 

The doors to the library burst open, startling her out of reverie. Right in her face was the monstrous version of Xander, lurching towards her. Shocked, she let out a yip and shoved the cross right into his face. 

Xander growled and stepped back, running right into the counter. He stared viciously at Willow, eyes glowing wildly, and then noticed Oz ready to throw his water. 

Xander ducked out of the way before he was burnt and then popped madly back up again. "What the hell's wrong with you?" he screamed at them, not caring if they got scared or frightened in the process. He was enraged that tonight had gone totally down the hole. Nothing ever went right on the Hellmouth! 

Willow hesitated for a moment, loosing her grip on the cross, but it was out of her hands now. Giles, seeing that Xander was not backing off from Oz and Willow, lifted up the crossbow. Xander turned towards him and his eyes widened as Giles let the spring go. 

Xander made to duck and closed his eyes. God . . . 

The doors to the library burst open, and Buffy came running in at full speed. She stepped in front of Xander, reached out with her two hands, and caught the stake right before it was to go through Xander. She backed up close to him and let the stake fall. It clattered loudly, the only sound in the room. 

"I thought he was evil," Oz asked outright, waiting for Buffy to explain why she had rescued him. 

"He's not," Buffy explained, looking at everyone else for affirmation. Then she turned around and placed her hands on Xander's chest. "You're hurt." 

Xander had a deep wound in his chest that had gone in several inches. It would have been a perfectly straight hole if Xander had not pulled out the stake while he was running. Now the skin was gashed all over and the shirt was ripped and torn around the place where the stake had gone in. He had one bloody hand over the bleeding cut and was obviously in a great amount of pain. 

But he ignored it, and shook Buffy's hand off of him. He shoved her out of the way and stomped towards the stacks. "It'll heal," he growled, the slightest touch of annoyance mingled in his voice. 

Giles had placed the crossbow on the table and was staring oddly at it, trying to comprehend what was going on. Oz was completely and totally clueless, and although Willow was relieved, she was also confused. 

"What happened?" she whispered to Buffy. 

"I'll tell you what happened," Xander said as he reappeared, a heavy book slipping out of his left hand. He hurried down the stairs and stood right next to Giles, the book thumping as Xander threw it in front of him. "You guys would have never let me leave, what with my-" he made a whiny voice-"'condition,' so I had to sneak out. You people didn't respect my need for privacy and-" He flipped open the book, and with his strength, the cover was ripped off and went sailing across the room. Growling, Xander started to flip through the book with much less anger. 

"-you found me not there. So you all thought I was evil, sent Buffy after me. She got there, for SOME reason couldn't realize I was good, and staked me. So glad you're losing it, Buffy. You could've *killed* me." The pages were turning faster and faster, with Xander vehemently at the helm. 

"Xander, how could I * not * ?" Buffy asked, in defense of herself. "I got there and there you were, acting all chummy with Angel and Drusilla. Am I suppose to think that you still had your soul after that?" 

Xander shook his head, a sardonic smile coming to his lips and his fangs glittering in the fluorescent lighting. "No, but the fact that Angel and I were * fighting * might have given you a damn clue! Buffy, a few more minutes and all he would've been was dust, if you hadn't decided to barge in an' freakin' try to kill the wrong vampire!" 

Buffy opened her mouth to retort angrily when Xander let out a low moan and dug his nails into the area around his wound. Giles put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Xander, you should really-" 

"Don't TOUCH me!" Xander hissed, shaking free of his light grip. "Touch me and I'll KILL you! And don't think I won't!" He stood up straight and slammed the book shut, getting right into Giles' face. "It's still in there! The demon's still inside of me, and I can't fight it if you people keep PISSING ME OFF!" 

Giles stepped back several paces for safety, until Xander finally looked away and stomped off with the book to the bookcases. He angrily slid the book back into its place and started to search for another. 

The three mortals and the wereboy were quiet for a moment, exchanging glances. This behavior that Xander was portraying was quite unsettling indeed. Buffy felt partly, if not wholly, responsible, and she racked her mind for possible solutions. 

"Maybe he needs some, uh, ah . . ." Oz suggested under his breath. 

"You're right. He hasn't fed yet, and it's his first night and everything. The need should be stronger." Buffy crossed her arms. "I think I should go to the butcher shop and get him some." She gave Willow and look. "Are you ok? You look sick." 

"Well, yeah, you would be to if someone really close to you was a . . . I'll shut up now." Willow sighed. "This is just weird. Xander's a vampire, he got * staked * , and now he's gonna drink blood and everything? And why won't he take that face off?" 

"Well," Oz put in, "maybe it's 'cause he's angry. And when he's angry, he can't take that face off. So-" 

"No, that's not the reason." Xander had sat down at he library table, staring at the pages of another carbon dated book before him and resting his head in the hand that was not clutched to his chest. "I like this face. I'm a vampire. So why should I take it off and pretend to be human? That would be stupid." 

Oz couldn't think of an answer, so Buffy turned back to Willow. "Do you want to go with me?" she asked. 

"Yeah," Willow said quietly. "I need some, uh, some fresh air." 

"I'll go too," Oz said, putting his arm around Willow. She smiled at this little gesture of love and held his hand tightly. Together, the three exited, and then there were two. 

Giles, who had backed up considerably against the weapons cage, took off his glasses, wiped them clean, and settled them back on the bridge of his nose. Running a hand through his hair, he made to say something comforting to Xander. 

"Shut up," said the vampire as he turned the page with a vengeance. "Don't wanna hear it." 


	14. Chapter 13

Giles had already moved some of his stuff back in here, and among other things, a large clock sat on his desk. It's hands crept across it's face, and it groaned and creaked with age. And in keeping the time . . . *tick-tick-tick, TOCK*. That annoying sound was magnified dozens of times with Xander's new, ultra-sensitive, preternatural hearing. And it only made it worse that it was the only sound in the still, silent room. 

Xander sat in the office chair, looking at the large, Styrofoam cup that rested far on the other corner of the desk, full to the capped brim with animal blood from the butcher's. Buffy said that's where Angel had gotten his blood, and sometimes Buffy had got it for him, so that's why she knew where to go. She also had mentioned that it would be cold, so it "might not taste as good, or, uh, however it's suppose to taste." Xander had grunted and shrugged, and Buffy had then left. 

Now Xander and the cup were playing the timeless tradition of the staring-down game, except the cup had no eyes. So this game was going to go one forever, and ever, and ever . . . 

But he was so hungry! As much as Xander detested the thought, this was the only thing that could calm his hunger pains. Animal blood. And he was NEVER going to drink human blood, although the vampire-demon voice that whispered in his head told him that it was the most delicious thing in this world . . . 

His stomach growled hungrily, and Xander groaned. The thought turned his stomach, but there was nothing else. He used to think food left him empty, but he had never really known what it was like to be REALLY hungry-mentally and physically. Now he did, and it was agonizing. 

said the vampire-demon. 

Hesitantly, more afraid of disobeying the demon than drinking the blood, Xander took the cup in his hand and peeled off the cover. An aroma drafted upwards into his nose, one that was tantalizing and revolting at the same time. Blood had never *smelled* before. But now it was like- 

He held it to his lips, the rim of the cup touching the satiny folds. He stayed in that position for awhile, and then, throwing caution to the wind, he chugged down a gulp of the stuff. 

And spit it right back out. 

"EW!" Xander yelled, standing up and tossing the cup away, having it spill its contents all over the carpet and the book that had been resting in his lap. Xander used his free hands to wipe the remains off his lips and chins, and even went so far as to scrape his tongue. 

"ECCH!" Xander yelled again for good measure, and then glared at the spreading blood stain, not making a move to clean it up. No wonder vampires drank from human victims. That animals blood was cold and disgusting. "Ecch," he repeated, a little quieter. 

When he finished making disgusted faces and wiping himself clean, he looked down at the book that lay on the floor, now covered completely in blood. It was opened to a completely different page, and for some reason Xander knelt down beside it and started to read avidly. 

As he read the page, his eyes began to widen in dread. He yanked the book closer to him peering at the pages as to make sure if he was reading the text right. Realizing that he was, he stood up straight, his nerves all shot. He strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

"We have go!" he yelled to the persons in the room. Willow and Oz woke up to look at him with quizzical expressions. "We have to go! I know where Angel's going!" 

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"No, Roberto, no! No puede sed, no puede sed . . . que paso a ti? Que paso?" 

The sobbing of Roberto's mistress from Spain was interrupted by the loud sound of Cordelia sneezing into her tissue. "ACHOO!" she thundered for the millionth time that night, or as it seemed to her. This flu had been going on forever, although now it was nothing more than a little cold. But Cordelia had refused to go to school looking so gross, and so her parents, who practically let her get away with anything, let her get away with not going. 

The sneezing done, Cordelia looked back up at the television screen, where Yo Vive Para Elena was playing on Telemundo. "Spanish soap operas-why?" Cordelia mused, sniffing and wiping her nose with the tissue again. 

She picked up the remote and switched channels just as Roberto's mistress flung a really fake-looking book at the wall behind him. "BO-ring," Cordelia said, checking out what was on all the other 107 channels. 

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Cordelia had brains-they had to give her that. But did she have to remember to lock her door tonight, of all nights? Tonight when Angelus would surely come after her. 

"The book says he *always* comes after . . . well, you know, what Cordelia is to me, because of what I did to him. And the last thing we want is to find Cordelia's gutted body hanging from the school's *flagpole* or something, ok? At least I don't." 

Xander did the talking thing as Buffy vainly tried to bust down the door to Cordelia's house. "What is this thing *built* out of?" she grunted as she rammed into it for the final time. 

After that try, Buffy stepped back and sighed, exasperated. "The door's not coming down. I guess we'll have to climb in through the windows or something." Buffy looked up at the Chase house, all the way up to the third floor. "This could be hard." 

"Um, can I try?" Everybody looked at Willow questioningly, but she just shrugged, embarrassed, and walked up to the door. She bent down, peered into the keyhole, and then pulled a hairpin out of her hair. After some careful deliberation, she jammed the hair pin in and turned the makeshift "key", the result being a satisfying click. 

"I'm not limited to hacking *just* on the computer," Willow told her stunned audience. Then she jerked her head towards the door, which was slowly creeping open from the weight. "Coming?" 

Buffy shrugged and went on in. Oz quickly followed, grabbing on to Willow's hand for comfort and amazed at yet another little secret Willow had surprised him with since they started to go together. Xander sighed, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and followed them. 

And as he entered the doorway, he yelped in surprise as he was pushed back by some strong, invisible force. 

"CRAP!" he yelled in frustration, beating at the invisible wall with his fists. The Scooby Gang turned around to see what was going on. 

Willow's mouth formed into a "what," but Xander answered her question before she spoke. "I'm not in*vi*ted," he said, growling under his breath. 

Buffy groaned-yet another setback-and rolled her eyes up to the sky, asking God to make this just a *little* bit more difficult for the lot of them. Willow bit down hard on her lip and gave out a little yip of pain. Oz stood there, trying to think of a solution. 

That's when they heard the tiny, muffled scream from upstairs. 

"Screw the front door!" Xander yelled as he heard the scream. He hit the floor running as he jumped off the porch and ran across the yard, heading for the side of house where Cordelia's bedroom was located, on the second floor. 

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She had been so engrossed in watching Friends that Cordelia hadn't noticed the scratching at her window until it became a series of loud scrapes. Then she satisfied herself by saying outloud that they were just the branches of the oak outside her window against her windowpane . . . yeah, except there was no wind. So Cordelia got up, looked out the window, and then deciding she needed a better view, opened it up and peered outside. 

Bad, bad, *bad* move that should not be practiced at *all* on the Hellmouth. As soon as Cordelia was half out of the window someone grabbed her by the waist and yanked her out of her room altogether. She had a short time to yelp before a strong, cold hand covered her mouth and plunked her down into the recesses of the big, leafy tree branches. 

And then she and her captor were falling, falling two stories, her captor possibly landing on two feet because that's how they ended up, and Cordelia did not jump like a cat. When they stopped swaying and Cordelia regained the feeling in her numbed mind, she opened her eyes. 

She was really surprised to see who stood in front of her-Xander. He was looking past her at the one who held her, and when Cordelia tried to turn around and see who it was, the hand that wasn't around her mouth reached out and held her neck in place. "Don't you move now," said the voice of her captor, his-hers?-its?-nose tickling the inside of her ear. 

Angelus turned to look towards Xander, who was practically shaking with anger. Angelus wiggled his eyebrows and, unbeknownst to Cordelia, began to sink his fangs towards her neck . . . 

"You *dare* and I *swear* you're dust," Xander spat out, his knuckles, being clenched so hard, turned a bright pink-a contrast against his extremely white skin. 

Cordelia's fear escalated as her captor chuckled softly in her ear. "But she's so tasty . . ." it whispered, and then there was the rushing sound of air as whatever it was snapped it's teeth. 

Wait . . . now she remembered the voice. "Ohmigod!" Cordelia cried, realizing that Angel was the one who was holding her. 

"Don't make me fight you," Xander warned, his voice and manner testy. 

Cordelia began to whimper. She was being kidnapped by *Angel* and *Xander* had come to her rescue. They might as well have left Cordelia to fend for herself. She was doomed. 

"I'm doomed," she said aloud. 

Angel chuckled. "There's only one way . . ." he said, taking his hand away from her mouth and tracing it along her neck. His eyes watched every invisible line that he drew. Then he turned back to Xander, eyes ablaze. "Fight me as what you are. Then we'll see if she can go." 

Cordelia looked at Xander with confused eyes as suddenly he clammed up and concentrated on the ground. When he looked back up, he said resolutely. "Ok." And before the eyes of his girlfriend, he *changed.* 

Cordelia's eyes widened in horror at the knowledge of being surrounded by *two* vampires. "Oh my god!" she said, her voice rising higher. "You have GOT to be kidding me!" 


	15. Chapter 14

Xander growled and stepped nearer, and Cordelia shrieked. "Don't come near me!" she cried, pressing up against *Angel* of all people. She couldn't believe that her boyfriend, the one boyfriend she was actually beginning to have actual feelings for, had turned into a vampire. No way! But the proof was there, coming right for her.   
  
"Get away!" she shrieked again as Xander continued, steadfast towards her and Angel.   
  
Xander tore his attention from Angel to look at Cordelia with sad eyes. "I'm *not* going to hurt you," he said softly. Then he shifted his gaze back to Angel. "Let her go, and then we'll fight. It's me you want to get back at."   
  
"Yeah, I really want to get you back, I do," Angel mused. "But you see"-he tightened his hold on Cordelia, and she stiffened-"if I kill her in front of your eyes, imagine what it'll do to you." Angel looked down at Cordelia's neck and wished that he hadn't eaten a two (was it three?) teenage girls just a half hour ago, when he was on the prowl. But he could still kill Cordelia if he really, really wanted to. "It'll kill you too."   
  
Xander's eyes narrowed, but he kept his cool at an inhuman level. "I said, *let her go*."   
  
Angel looked up to the sky, as if deliberating whether or not he should follow Xander's order. Then he looked at Cordelia, then at Xander, and the back to his victim. Then he grinned.   
  
"No," he said simply, and then moved to sink his fangs into Cordelia's neck.   
  
Xander was top of him before he even had the chance to move a centimeter towards her neck. Together, the three of them fell, Cordelia screaming for help. Xander was vaguely aware of her, and moved quickly enough to wrench her away from Angel's grip and then to drag Angel to the other side of the fenced- in backyard.   
  
  
  
  
  
Buffy & Co barely had time to round the corner when Cordelia ran around it first, slamming into Buffy full-force. The two teenage girls bounced off each other, and Cordelia was the one to recover first.   
  
"Ohmigod *Xander's a VAMPIRE*!" Cordelia screamed, grabbing on to Buffy and shaking her.   
  
"Cordelia, Cordelia..." Buffy said, trying to sooth the poor girl, but she would not calm down. "*Cordelia*!" Cordelia snapped out of it and looked, shivering, at Buffy. "We know!"   
  
Cordelia jaw dropped to the floor and her eyes grew twice their normal size. "WHAT? My boyfriend's a vampire and you *knew*? How come nobody told me? Am I not important? Do you know what kind of a shock this is? Ah, ah, ah..." Cordelia took some deep breaths, trying to calm herself down.   
  
The rest of the gang looked worried as Buffy tried to explain to Cordelia what exactly Xander's situation was. Cordelia listened with wide, dull eyes, and seemed like she was about to cry.   
  
"Where's Xander?" Willow asked after Cordelia had wiped away her tears and they had all calmed down.   
  
"He's"-sniff-"fighting Angel in the backyard."   
  
"*What*?" Buffy asked, incredulous. "Xander might *die* and you've been here whimpering to me about *you*? Have you not changed?" With that, Buffy brushed the Slayerette off and ran around the corner, hopefully soon enough to save her friend's hide.   
  
  
  
  
  
Xander let out a yelp of pain as Angel grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him into the wall of the Chase house. The force of the hit sent a shudder through his spine, but it was quickly gone. Enraged, Xander kicked Angel hard in the chest, and the older vampire let go of the younger one, Xander sliding to the grass and crawling out of the way.   
  
Xander didn't even get to his feet before Angel tackled him and they began to roll around on the ground, getting the occasional kick or punch in. There were a lot of sharp, jagged rocks splayed around the yard to keep the intruders out and to prevent the family dog from running away (as though the mile-high ivy- climbed walls didn't), so Xander and Angel suffered several nasty scrapes on all parts of their bodies.   
  
*It could be worse*, Xander convinced himself as he ignored another blow to his stomach. *It could be wood*.   
  
  
  
  
  
Idiot her-she had forgotten her stakes. Oh well, she was just going to have to beat him into a bloody pulp until he ran away.   
  
Buffy marched steadfastly towards the two men who were duking it out on the ground. Vampire or not, Xander was not a match for Angel, and she was. She was the Slayer, Angel a Vampire, and it was finally obvious to her as to what she should do. What she should've done so long, long time ago.   
  
With decisive strength, Buffy reached out and yanked Angel off of Xander, throwing him against the wall. Stunned, Angel slid down the wall, and Buffy was heading towards him when someone grabbed her roughly by the arm.   
  
". . . the hell do you think you're doing?" Xander shouted at her, practically dragging her against him. Buffy gave him an astonished look and then proceeded to open her mouth and try to explain.   
  
"No, wait, I don't want to hear it! But I want *you* to hear *this*. This is *my* fight, and I'm going to fight it, dammit! You had about fifty million chances to kill Angel, and zip-zero-nada, you didn't. So now it's *my* turn, and *back off*."   
  
Buffy was going to argue with him, but the Slayer-Sense in the back of her mind told her not to push Xander's already strained limits. "Alright," she told him. "But-"   
  
Angel decided he was done waiting and that action needed to be taken. He slammed into Xander, completely ignoring the Slayer, and continued his interrupted fight.   
  
  
  
  
  
He was losing and he knew it.   
  
That was possibly the only thing he knew. Xander was so engrossed in the fight that he was only vaguely aware that Buffy had left the two brawling vampires alone, but she and the others were still somewhere near. They were only fuzzy perceptions at the back of his mind, while whatever was left concentrated on the fistfight.   
  
It's not like he was losing on purpose, although it was very much his fault. The fact that Angel had 200+ years tucked under his belt and Xander had one night didn't really matter-Angel was up to full strength and he was not. He hadn't drunk the blood, he still had the aching, yet surfaced-healed wound, and while battling Angel he had to keep the demon inside quiet, because it was beating down his doors of willpower. The angrier he got, the more control the demon had over him, and Xander was angry.   
  
And scared, and even more angry. He could already see that Angel was going to win, and he lose. But he was not going to ask Buffy for help, and he would do anything he could to not lose, except...   
  
There was one way, one *sure* way for him to win, but Xander didn't want to do it. He was afraid that if he did it, he might not be able to *un*do it, and he would be lost forever. But he couldn't let Angel win, let Angel win and go and do some more evil stuff. So he would have to make a sacrifice...   
  
God, he never thought he'd actually be making a sacrifice for anything or anybody. He never seen himself as that kind of person. But, he had been through a lot of changes...   
  
  
  
  
  
They all knew that it was rude, sick, and disgusting to watch this fight, but they couldn't help it. Xander had been hinting for centuries that he was going to end Angel, but they had never truly believed it. Now that it was two vampires against each other in a definite fight-to-the-death, their eyes were glued to the scene, not one able to tear their gaze away.   
  
"He's going to die," Willow mumbled to herself, not even noticing that she and Cordelia, enemies to the last, were hugging each other in fear that the one thing they both loved might be gone soon. "He hasn't a chance."   
  
"I know," Cordelia mumbled back, her grip on Willow's arm tightening as Xander took a hard blow to the head. "I know."   
  
"I can't *believe* he won't let me help him," Buffy said with clenched jaws and fists. Her way of expressing her fear at the moment was through anger. "I swear, if he doesn't get better... I'm going to jump in there anyway. He can't expect me to just *sit* here. I have to-" her voice choked up and she couldn't finish her sentence.   
  
The three girls and the boy sat there, trying to find a way to get through this, when Angel tripped Xander and got on top of him. The older man grabbed a fist full of Xander's hair   
  
*my god he's going to rip his head off* Buffy thought   
  
and moved his arm back to yank...   
  
"NO!" Buffy screamed, completely disobeying Xander and running towards the two.   
  
  
  
  
  
He was going to pull the bugger's head off, going to pull it off and watch everything turn to dust, when he received a well-aimed kick in the manly parts.   
  
With a grunt, Angel let go of Xander's head and rolled off to him. No sooner than in a second was he picked up by the folds of his jacket and throw over the backyard fence into the front yard.   
  
Having thrown him, Xander ran and took a flying leap over the fence, landing right before the crumpled heap of Angel. He grabbed his jacket again and threw him onto the top of the pointy, sharp, chain-link fence.   
  
Angel screamed in pain as his wrist was impaled by all the little bits of metal atop the fence. They were quickly out, thought, as Xander kicked his legs and sent him over the fence, Angel landing on his face in a pile of dog manure.   
  
Now he was picked up by his back, and flung back into the yard. His head rammed into an obstacle, and looked up to see his face dangerously close to a chip of oak. He quickly scrambled away, intent on trying to find a way to get away from this newly motivated creation of his.   
  
But it was futile. Someone grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up, turning his head around in almost a full Exorcist twist, had he not moved his body also. Xander loomed over him, with a sparkling grin filled with sparkling fangs and the glow of the sheer kill in his eyes. "I knew I was going to be there when you died," he chuckled, tightening his grip on Angel's scalp. "I just didn't know I'd be the one to do it."   
  
With that said, he lifted Angel up off the floor by the hair. Closing his eyes, Angel moaned and prayed to whatever merciful God there was. But it was no use. Xander intended to finish what he had begun.   
  
With a grunt, Xander picked him up and threw him into the center of the oak tree. The large, spindling branches on the tree went right through Angel's body, impaling him to the oak. In the center of it, one large, thick branch stuck straight out of his heart, and Angel reached out to touch it with one weakening hand.   
  
"Damn," he whispered incredulously before he turned to dust in the wind. 


	16. Epilogue

Xander stood there, staring at the tree limb that had killed Angel, completely still. His boy and face were as rigid as stone, and cold, hard eyes like marble continued to glare at the limb. He was wounded so tight, in fact, that he began to shiver and shake with fury, and then just collapsed to the floor.   
  
Buffy, who had been standing there stock-still like an idiot, ran towards her friend. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him tight into a hug. She could feel the spreading wetness of his tears on the sleeve of her shoulders as she shed tears of her own.   
  
"God, Xander, I'm so sorry..." she whispered to him, the tone in her voice begging her to forgive him for the all the pain she had wrought. For all the pain *he* had wrought. For everything...   
  
The other Slayerette's caught up with them, Cordelia dropping to her knees besides her boyfriend and hugging him tight. "Oh Xander," she whispered, crying herself. "I can't believe... I can't believe..." she didn't try to go on, just rocked herself and Xander together, as he abandoned the comfort of Buffy's arms for her.   
  
As Willow got her turn and Oz came to say whatever he was gonna say, Buffy turned around to the oak tree   
  
*The oak'll win in the end*   
  
to the spot where Angel had died. She reached out to touch the limb, her fingers twining around the thick bark, tightening to that pieces flaked off and dug into her hand. Her eyes teared up, mourning for a lover and enemy lost. It had been unbearable to watcher Xander practically annihilate Angelus, but it needed to be done and never in the world could she have done it. It was inevitable... Angel's fate.   
  
"Hey." Buffy turned around, startled, at the sound of the voice and the hand on her shoulder. It was just Xander, standing there with the strangest expression on his face, one completely unreadable. His eyes were so deep now, so very deep... and his whole meaner was saddened by the weight-   
  
"Of being lost," Xander finished her thought. "I now. I don't think I'll ever lose this look."   
  
Buffy gave him a confused expression. How had she known what she was thinking. "Empathy, I think," Xander answered. "I think it's pretty common with vampires."   
  
Buffy let out a little half smile as a twinkle in Xander's eye appeared. "Where are the others?" she asked, suddenly realizing they were alone.   
  
"I asked... to be with you. To talk with you. So they went to the library, and Cordelia... I think she went with them or, or maybe upstairs. I'm not sure."   
  
"Oh," Buffy said. She must've been thinking for awhile now. How time flies by. She was going to say something else when Xander extended his hand.   
  
"Grab it," he told her. When she gave him a confused look again, he continued to hold out his hand. "*Grab* it. It'll be cool."   
  
"Um, ok." Buffy grabbed on to the hand-tightly-not knowing exactly what he was gonna do.   
  
Xander grinned, look up at the tree, and Buffy looked to where his gaze rested. And then, with a sudden whoosh of air, they were there.   
  
"I jumped," Xander enthused, his manner a bit light and teasing, and Buffy took amoment to catch her breath once they were in the higher levels of the oak tree. "I just found out I could do that... and I guess I wanted to show you."   
  
Buffy smiled weakly. "Yeah, that was something." Then a silence fell between them, uncomfortable and long.   
  
Xander looked up at the sky, which had changed from it's dark black to a beautiful deep blue, knowing that in seven minutes or so he would have to run for cover. "It's twilight," he whispered, thinking of the passage from Reginald's Watcher Diary. "The darkness after sunset."   
  
Buffy blinked back sentimental tears and joined her arm with Xander's. "Twilight is also the time before the sunrise," she told him, a tear escaping and sliding down her cheek. "A time to let go of the old, and new beginnings... and stuff, ya know?"   
  
Xander smiled at her little try at poetry, and reached out to wipe the tear from her face. He did it slowly, sensually, looking deep into Buffy's eyes all the while. He let his finger trace from her cheek down to her neck, where he traced it off to just the top of her breasts and then let go.   
  
"Just one kiss," he breathed, leaning in.   
  
Buffy didn't objected. She closed her eyes and felt the soft, satiny touch of Xander's lips on hers. His kiss... he was a wonderful kisser. She was enthralled, caught up in the sensuality of the kiss, and she kissed back harder, pressing her body against his. He wrapped his arm around her, leaning in, and for a moment they traded tongues.   
  
It was heaven. It felt like heaven to her. Nothing with Angel... expect perhaps the sex... had ever been this good. She didn't know that Xander was capable of making her feel this way. But oh, now that he was... it was heaven.   
  
Xander let go of the kiss and Buffy took a deep breath. She closed her eyes in contentment as Xander's mouth moved down her chin and by her ear. "Xander, don't... stop, please. I need this. I need this so much." She wrapped her arms around him, entwining her hands into his thick black curls. Her leg inched up his, utterly caught up in the moment...   
  
And then she felt the cool, cold fangs sliding into her neck, and fuzzy sensation created around the area that Xander had pierced. And icy shock ran through her entire body as he began to drink, and with all her might, Buffy tried to push him away. Kick him away. Anything. But she was frozen to the spot, unable to move as her fragile life was taken from her.   
  
Xander let go of her and watched her dried husk of a body fall to his feet and then continued to fall from the tree like the different layers of the branches were macabre stairs. His mouth was covered in blood, but that was not unusual to see on a vampire who had made their first kill. The lukewarm blood was slowly chilled as it was exposed to the air, and Xander's tongue darted out to lick the remains of the blood that was once so bittersweet, and now so crisp and fresh unlike anything he had ever tasted.   
  
But still... the blood of the Slayer wasn't really what it was hyped up to be.   
  
Xander dropped from the tree, landing gracefully on to legs. This alone thrilled him, beyond the fact that pure energy and power was now pumping through his veins. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the sky. It was lighter now, and twilight was fading. He would have to go inside soon.   
  
He could hear the whine of cop cars in the near distance. Some neighbor had heard the ruckus and reported it. Now he really had to move.   
  
As Xander walked away, he took a mental picture of Buffy's body, dried and dead. "Yes, Buffy, that's right," he whispered, reveling in all of it. "A time to let go of the old. A time for new beginnings." 


End file.
